The Marginalist:

I’ve been talking a lot lately — ranting, actually — about politics . Health care, climate policy, and whether or not Obama deserves the Nobel Peace Prize are all incredibly interesting topics to be sure (if you’re an economist).

But they’re not fun. Lately I’ve been losing track of the fun side of economics. I’ve been letting the political economic side of me take over the fun economic side of me. Part of it is I’ve been doing a lot of political trouble-making lately with my campus group Hoyas for Liberty. But this idea has been kicking around my head for a while, and it’s probably a lot more interesting than why Cap and Trade isn’t economically efficient.

You know how everyone’s been through different phases of their childhood where they wanted to be an astronaut,

firefighter, or a doctor? I went through the same phases (except with Pokemon trainer, violin teacher, and paleontologist). But now I’m pretty sure I know what I want to be: a professor.

I want to be this guy

I’m not really sure what it is. Maybe I’m just scared of a normal private sector job. I’ve always liked being in school, and I’ve always loved to learn (a cliche, but true). It just feels like the natural thing for me to do. But being a professor and writing those papers and molding the minds of future generations just seems… exciting.

But you always need a Plan B if things don’t work out the way you want them to. My Plan B is… street performing. Okay, maybe it’s not Plan B (maybe Plan D or E or F…) but it’s not the worst job in the world.

The first time I went street performing was in April, when I asked a very sweet and cute girl to prom (in what might be described as an over and unnecessarily dramatic fashion). Long story short, I serenaded her as a street performer.

"Help me take a cute girl to prom"

As it turns out, I was looking for a job at the time — and busking paid pretty far better than any other job I could find. I’d found my summer job. Every few days I’d take the bus down to Seattle’s Pike Place Market, open my case, and hope for tourists to drop a dollar or two into my case.

One difference between street performing and a regular job is the risk and irregularity involved in street performing. Most of my friends that had jobs that summer would go to work knowing how long they’d be working for, and at what rate they’d be paid at the end of the day. Not so for a street performer: Every day, I could go out and expect to play for 2-3 hours that day, but exactly when and where (some places paid better than others) was a mystery. My pay was completely subject to the whims of my audience. How much I got paid would depend on how well I was playing, how many tourists there were, their moods, what kind of competition I had that day, and a host of other factors.

Or, look at it this way: the reason why street performing is a risky business is that you offer your product with no guarantee of being paid back. In fact, each individual audience member has absolutely no financial incentive to give you money. Whether or not one person gives a street performer money is not going to influence whether or not he keeps playing.

In fact, now that I think of it, what this really is, in theory at least, is the prisoner’s dilemma. Look at the following table:

Imagine you and a group of people are watching a street performer. You all like him, and you would be willing to pay to keep hearing him play.

If everyone says, “alright, I’ll pitch in a dollar,” the busker keeps busking. Everyone’s happy, but a dollar poorer.

But people are naturally selfish (self-interested, if you prefer). People are going to think, “alright, everyone else is paying, which means the busker will keep on playing. Even if I don’t pay up, I can still enjoy the music.”

But there’s a trap here when too many people think this way. At some point, if too many people don’t pay — they “deviate” or “shirk” — the busker stops playing, and no one gets to enjoy the music. In fact, because everyone acted selfishly, everyone’s worse off. Economists call this the prisoner’s dilemma — when people acting in their own self-interest makes everyone worse off.

The greatest trick of the street performer is not the music they perform or the magic they can show you. The greatest thing the street performer does is to get people to give them money against their financial self-interest.