We’ve all heard it, and we may have said it: It’s easier to seek forgiveness than ask permission.

It sounds reasonable. Upon arriving at those gray inflection points where the course we want to follow might or might not be sanctioned, we rely on our uncertainty to justify our inclinations. If we’re called out later, we can always claim truthfully, “I didn’t know it would be a problem.”

So why risk a no when we can fly under the radar with a maybe? I’ve asked myself that question countless times to rationalize choices that I reckoned were probably okay, rather than taking the chance that my intuition (or predisposition) was off the mark.

But could it be that asking permission in the first place is actually easier?  That may depend on how we define the word “easy.”

I backed into this mindset recently while visiting my kids in Los Angeles.  After diluvian water damage rendered their townhouse uninhabitable, a surreal twist of bureaucratic fate provided them temporary quarters in the city’s most luxurious apartment building.

The lavish amenities included a high-class indoor/outdoor café area that provided complimentary breakfast for residents each morning. Guests were included, which meant that my wife and I could take part in the morning repast.

On our second day visiting, however, my daughter was driving carpool and my son-in-law was getting ready for work. My wife and I pondered whether or not the breakfast policy extended to guests unaccompanied by their resident hosts. We assumed it did, and if we simply walked into the breakfast area, chances were that no one would say anything.

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!”

As we settled into two comfortable patio chairs, it occurred to me that had we not asked, I would have been on edge throughout the entire breakfast, worried that someone might say something and anxious about possibly abusing our privilege. In the end, asking was the far easier choice since it allowed me to relax and enjoy my bagel and lox free from moral tension.

But what if the concierge had said no? At worst, we would have had to wait 10 or 15 minutes for our breakfast. And that would have been a small price to pay for the peace of mind to know we had avoided, however unintentionally, disobeying the rules.

In this case, the stakes were pretty low, so there was really no good reason not to do the right thing. But even when the stakes are higher, doing what’s right may only require invoking this concept, which is the latest entry to the Ethical Lexicon:

TANSTAAFL, acronym for There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

We live in the most entitled era in history. With every convenience only a 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’d 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 a 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 having to invest the time and consideration that earn loyalty. But whatever they save, they will more than pay it back through the cost of low engagement, high turnover, and diminished revenue over time.

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 from doing the right thing the right way. Indeed, there is no surer strategy for cultivating a culture designed to drive its own success.

And yet, there’s something strangely counterintuitive about this philosophy. After explaining the truism that good ethics is good business, I’m often asked this question by clients and interviewers:  “What you’ve explained is so obvious. Why don’t people get it?”

It comes down to biology and conditioning. Our brains are perpetually at war with themselves, with the frontal lobe scanning 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. And the more accustomed we become to applying quick fixes and taking short cuts, the less willing we are to do the real work that will better serve our own best interests.

But no matter how attractive the payoff seems in the moment, it rarely offsets the cost when it’s time to pay the bill. Yes, there might seem to be a free lunch (or breakfast), but we may be shocked when realizing how much we ended up having to pay. Because that expression is really true: There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.

Oddly enough, 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.