One day at work a couple of years back, an notification hit on my phone: my paycheck had come through. It was a decent sum for a someone still at university, so I did my usual when payday arrived: I opened every shopping app on my phone. From Amazon to Zara, you name it. Within the space of an hour, I had spent £90 on apparel, home decor and a completely unused weighted blanket that never touched.
A few days later, I returned to the internet and bought a hairdryer. I already had one, but reasoned an extra one couldn't hurt. Then I added light strips and two pairs of shoes that weren’t even my size. This wasn’t new behaviour. In reality, I’d been notorious for it ever since I could afford to buy my own things.
Whenever I felt anxious, exhausted or uninterested, I would mindlessly scroll until it inevitably ended in an unplanned shopping binge. My justification was always: “Oh well, it’s just £5.” But £5 turned into £10, then £20, and continued.
I was never entirely certain about the reason. Maybe it was due to my upbringing in a poor family, where we’d go months without buying new clothes or anything to decorate the house. So any time I had some disposable income, there was always a subconscious yearning for new and exciting things. Or possibly, and almost certainly, I was just financially irresponsible and succumbed easily to the lure of demands.
In the end, I opted to try something new. Before buying anything, I’d put it in my basket, delay for 24 hours, then decide whether to check out. The best part of this method was that it gave me space to think – something I’d never done before. For the first occasion since I turned 18, I began questioning: “Do I actually need this? Can I afford it?” Most of the time, the answer was negative.
If I accessed my shopping apps and found products lingering in my basket, I’d clear them out and begin anew. By employing this system, I ceased acquiring things that I intuitively knew I would never utilize. I once considered buy a trio of games, but after a waiting period before visiting the shop, I understood I never actually engage with tabletop games.
I also wanted to buy a disposable film camera for my first trip to the coast. After pausing I remembered I had a smartphone, like most people, that has a perfectly adequate lens, and therefore had no requirement to buy a dedicated camera.
It also signifies I am more discerning about the things I do purchase, and I can finally review my financial records devoid of experiencing guilt or discomfort.
Naturally, there have been occasions I’ve relapsed into previous patterns – it's human nature. The difference now is that I can recognise the warning signs sooner, particularly when I’m hastening into a transaction. I’ve realised boredom is a powerful catalyst. It’s perhaps the biggest driver of my impulsive expenditure.
Modern culture exploits this idleness and our need for instant gratification. That’s why, looking back, forcing myself to pause before buying has felt unexpectedly freeing. Gaining control over my urges and remind myself that I don't have to expend my diligently earned money on non-essential goods feels as revolutionary as it is straightforward.