Hobson's Choice -- Take That or None

Today, I'm sharing more wisdom from my bulletin board.  

Thomas Hobson owned a livery stable in Cambridge, England in the early 1600s.  Hobson's stable was filled with many horses of different varieties.  But when a customer came in to rent one, Hobson offered the customer the choice of either taking the horse nearest the stable door, or taking none at all.  This was his method for rotating his horses.  

Thus the phrase "Hobson's choice" came to mean the choice of taking either that which is offered, or nothing.  You have freedom of choice, but there's only one choice.

[This incidentally reminds me of a book I read recently (another excellent book provided by my sister Becky) called The Mysterious Benedict Society, by Trenton Lee Stewart.  In the book, several very bright children go on a secret mission, undercover, at the Learning Institute for the Very Enlightened (LIVE).  The only rule at the school is that there are no rules.  In reality, there are all sorts of absurd "non"-rules.  For example, you're allowed to keep the lights on in your rooms as late as you wish until ten o'clock each night.  Freedom to choose one choice.]  

My life is filled with Hobson's choices, or at least it feels that way.  Right now, I'm chewing on a choice presented to me at the stable of life today.  But the longer I chew, the more I fear that I have no choice at all.  I fear that there is only one horse available to me, and I must continue to ride it.  (No, the horse is not a person.)

I'm all for freedom of choice.  It just irks me when the choices are illusory.  I must admit that I offer Hobson (or nearly-Hobson) choices to my children all the time.  "We don't want to take baths!"  "Okay then.  I'll give you a choice.  You can take a bath in the upstairs tub.  Or you can take a bath in the downstairs tub."  (Either way, they are taking baths and have no choice in the matter.)  It's effective with children, and I suppose it's effective with me too.    

Well, this may be cold comfort, but one could argue that choices galore actually make us unhappy.  Here's one good book that takes up the question.