One afternoon at my job two years ago, an notification hit on my phone: my salary had been deposited. It was a fair amount for a someone still at university, so I proceeded with my what I always did payday ritual: I launched every single retail application on my phone. From Amazon to Zara, the list was endless. Within the space of an hour, I had parted with £90 on apparel, decorative items and a completely useless heavy blanket that I never used.
A short while after, I went online again and bought a blow dryer. I already had one, but reasoned an extra one wouldn't be a problem. Then I included light strips and two shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn’t new behaviour. In reality, I’d been notorious for it since I started earning.
Whenever I felt stressed, exhausted or uninterested, I would doomscroll until it inevitably culminated in an unplanned shopping spree. My excuse was constantly: “It's only £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and continued.
I was never entirely certain about the reason. Maybe it was because I grew up in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without purchasing new clothes or anything to decorate the home. So any time I had some disposable income, there was always a hidden yearning for novel and thrilling things. Or maybe, and definitely more likely, I was just financially irresponsible and gave in readily to capitalism’s consumerism.
Eventually, I opted to experiment with a novel idea. Prior to buying any item, I’d place it in my basket, wait 24 hours, then make a choice whether to finalize the purchase. The best part of this method was that it gave me space to think – something I’d never taken. For the first time since I turned 18, I started questioning: “Do I truly require this? Is it within my budget?” More often than not, the response was negative.
If I opened my shopping apps and discovered products sitting in my cart, I’d clear them out and start fresh. By employing this method, I ceased buying things that I knew deep down I would never utilize. I once wanted to buy a trio of games, but after waiting before visiting the shop, I realised I never actually engage with board games.
I also contemplated buy a disposable film camera for my first holiday to Croatia. After waiting I recalled I possessed a phone, like everybody else, that features a perfectly adequate lens, and thus had no requirement to buy a separate device.
It also means I am more discerning about the things I do buy, and I can at last look at my bank statements without feeling guilt or embarrassment.
Of course, there have been times I’ve relapsed into previous patterns – it's human nature. The key change is that I can identify the warning signs sooner, especially when I’m hastening into a purchase. I’ve come to understand boredom is a strong trigger. It’s probably the primary driver of my reckless spending.
Modern culture preys on this idleness and our need for instant satisfaction. That’s the reason, looking back, forcing myself to pause before purchasing has felt strangely freeing. To be able to have command over my urges and reaffirming that I don't have to spend my hard-earned money on non-essential products feels as radical as it is straightforward.
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