Jon Zinman and Eric Zitzewitz are snowboarders and skiers and also Dartmouth economists, and one day their multiple interests converged.

During the 2007-08 ski season, they visited a resort in Vermont, lured by what Zinman described as a report of “plenty of fresh powder.” When they arrived, however, they were disappointed. There was far less snow than the resort had claimed. As economists who had worked on the issues of information disclosure, corruption in figure skating, and why you can’t always trust even your own friends, their suspicions were aroused.

After trying out several of the trails, they decided to research whether there was a pattern of deceptive advertising at ski resorts. They compared reports from a resort with reports from government weather stations — and using statistical methods, they found that their casual impressions were not mistaken: Ski resorts significantly overstated the amount of new snowfall they receive on the weekends.

Just how bad are these exaggerations? On average, the resorts report 23 percent more snow than is actually there — which means if you hear about 1.6 inches, you should probably expect something more like 1.3 inches. If you think that’s no big deal, remember that’s just the average; often the resorts in the study exaggerated by inches, not tenths of inches. And if you still think that’s no big deal, remember that to a lot of expert skiers, fresh powder is everything.

Zinman and Zitzewitz had proved something that skiers had long suspected. The question was what to do about it.

The Zinman-Zitzewitz investigation was part of a broader body of research in applied psychology and behavioral economics that asks an important question: When are customers satisfied or disappointed with a purchase or experience? We are beginning to understand that “an experience” very often makes a better gift than a possession; that you’re better off giving two tickets to the Yankees instead of a signed Andy Pettitte baseball, because the former will produce stronger, fonder, and more durable memories of the giver. But we’re just starting to figure out which sports and sport experiences are most likely to disappoint or pleasantly surprise us. A lot of what we’re learning isn’t good news.

The biggest issue is that our own desire for thrills often works against our better judgment. As a species, we derive pleasure from thinking about what will come — how nice that powdery snow on the slopes is going to be. So we turn off our critical faculties at the worst possible moment in hopes of maximizing the value of the anticipation and getting a bigger buzz. This is particularly bad when it comes to sports experiences, which are rife with “asymmetric information” — when the seller knows something you don’t. Your best defense, of course, is to be aware of your vulnerability and maximize your information, as any smart shopper does when in the market for a used car. But when it comes to shopping for experiences, emotions all too often rule. Consider: