You've heard it before. You may have said it yourself: It's easier to seek forgiveness than ask permission.

It sounds reasonable. Upon arriving at the crossroads of moral ambiguity, uncertainty encourages rationalization. If we get called out later, we can always claim, truthfully, "I didn't know it would be a problem." Why risk a no when we can fly under the radar with a maybe?

But what if asking permission in the first place is actually easier?

I backed into this mindset recently while visiting my kids in Los Angeles. Their apartment building provided a complimentary breakfast for residents every morning.

My wife and I pondered whether we were welcome as guests? Most likely. Our impulse was to take our chances that no one would confront us.

But it felt not-quite-right. So we summoned up our ethical courage and asked the concierge if we could go in. She responded with a bright smile and cheerfully replied, "Of course, you can. Enjoy your breakfast!"

Had we not asked, I would have spent my entire breakfast anxious over possibly abusing our privilege and worried that someone might say something. In the end, asking was the far easier choice, allowing me to relax and enjoy my bagel and lox free from moral tension.

And what if the concierge had said no? At worst, we would have had to make our own breakfast or go out to a cafe. But that would have been a small price to pay for peace of mind.

The truth is, the stakes were low. But even when they are higher, doing what's right only requires invoking this concept, which is the latest entry to the Ethical Lexicon:

TANSTAAFL (TAN*STAA*FL/ TAN-stah-ful) | acronym

There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

We live in the most entitled generation in history. With every convenience one click away and free services offered at every turn, it's no surprise that we expect virtually everything to be both free and easy. But there is always a price to pay, and if we think we're beating the system, we may end up paying a price higher than we imagined.

Popularized by Robert A. Heinlein in his 1966 novel, "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress," TANSTAAFL alerts us to the fallacy of expecting something for nothing. If lunch at the bar is free, the drinks will be overpriced or watered down. If the casino provides complimentary cocktails, it's because they know that lubricated gamblers more readily part with their money.

By the same token, employers may think they can squeeze more productivity out of employees and more purchases out of customers without investing the time and consideration that earn loyalty. But over time, they will inevitably pay back dollars for every penny saved through the cost of low engagement, high turnover and diminished revenue.

Similarly, New Yorkers who voted for a mayor promising free stuff have come face-to-face with an unpleasant reality check.

The most underestimated cost, however, is lost peace of mind. The minimal investment of asking permission, soliciting advice and inviting feedback will be recouped many times over with the confidence and tranquility that come with doing the right thing the right way. Indeed, there is no better way to cultivate a culture designed to drive its own success.

So why are we resistant? It all comes down to biology and conditioning.

Our brains are perpetually at war with themselves: The frontal lobe scans the horizon for long-term benefit while the amygdala craves and seeks immediate gratification. Without moral discipline, short-term gratification always wins out over long-term planning.

The more we resort to quick fixes and shortcuts, the less willing we become to do the real work that serves our own best interests. Yes, the lunch (or breakfast) might be free. But we may find ourselves shocked by the price we end up having to pay.

Because it's really true: There ain't no such thing as a free lunch. When it comes to acting ethically, the cost might be considerably less in reality than it appears in our imagination, while the hidden benefits go on and on and on.

See more by Yonason Goldson and features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists; visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Louis Hansel at Unsplash