All this security and prospects are different for different people. Somebody is happy playing music and with a less pay, somebody is secure in the corporate world with a high pay with headache. We have individual tastes, tastes are not universal.
I decline the coffee. I don't drink it, because no matter how much sugar I put into it, it still tastes like ass-water to me. Maybe it's because my taste buds are so desensitized to sweet that anything not comprised of at least ninety percent sugar tastes wrong
You can't compare the taste of organic and non organic fruits and vegetables. Organic tastes like a ten-minute trumpet solo in your mouth, and non organic tastes like a thirty second tape recording that's been listened to a thousand times.
Desjani pulled out a ration bar. 'Hungry?' she asked Geary. 'I had something earlier. Is that a Yanika Babiya?' 'No. It's... ' She squinted at the label. 'Spicy chicken curry.' 'A chicken curry ration bar? How are they?' Taking a small bite, Desjani chewed slowly, pretending not to be aware that everyone on the bridge was watching her instead of staring at the representation of the alien hypernet gate. 'It's definitely got curry in it. Spicy, not so much. Some of the other stuff tastes like chicken.' 'That doesn't narrow it down too much, does it?' Geary said. 'Every kind of meat in a ration bar tastes like chicken, Captain, ' Lieutenant Castries suggested. 'Except the chicken.' 'You're right, Lieutenant, ' Desjani said. 'Real chicken in ration bars tastes like, what, mutton?' 'Ham, ' Yuon tossed in. 'Bad ham.' 'So this can't be chicken because it tastes like chicken, ' Desjani concluded.
When a fruit salad, a lover, or a jazz trio is just too imperfect for our tastes, we stop eating, kissing, and listening. But the law of large numbers suggests that when a measurement is too imperfect for our tastes, we should not stop measuring. Quite the opposite - we should measure again and again until niggling imperfections yield to the onslaught of data.