Stop Shopping

So there you go, not really headed for massive money trouble, me. It wasn’t until that magazine I was working for folded that my grip on financial reality started to slip. I found another job quickly enough, this time at a book-publishing co-op in Berkeley. I was making $11/hour and feeling pretty proud of myself—I wasn’t working for the man, not me, I was one of the people, I divided my days between the offices, where I’d write blurbs for the book catalogue, and the warehouse, where I was happy as a clam wrapped up in a sweater and boots and packing orders. And in all of my smug Berkeleyness I managed to forget that when you make $11/hour—by the way, that was BEFORE taxes—you can’t really afford to buy expensive clothes, go out for meals on a regular basis and treat your poor, unemployed friends to fancy dinners. You also can’t splash out on expensive vacations.

Needless to say, I started to rack up some debt. My solution was not to change my spending habits, but to get a second job. I started tutoring kids preparing for the SAT and made decent money doing it (around $20/hour). Problem was, I felt like I was working all the time. And, to be fair, I was working an awful lot. So, when I did have time I saw no problem with spending my hard-earned money. After all, what is the point of working all the time if you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor, right?

And thus began the vicious cycle—I keep working more and more to pay off debt, and then feeling more and more justified in spending money because I’m working so damn hard all the time. I feel like I deserve an afternoon off to mindlessly skim through t-shirts and dresses. I am easily tempted by sales, thinking I’ll just buy one little thing, or dinners out thinking I’ll just order a salad or an appetizer, no drinks. When I spend more than I wanted to or more than I should, I rationalize it, thinking “Well, so-and-so will be sending me a check soon and if I do a little extra work for such-and-such that’ll balance out what I spent tonight.” With this sort of system the debt stays right where it is—it doesn’t grow, because I am putting money towards it every month, but it doesn’t diminish either because I keep spending money.

Obviously this is 100 percent my fault, but I will defend myself with this: people work more in this country than they do almost anywhere else, and they do that so they can afford to buy things. We are marketed-to constantly in a variety of ways, some of which are so subtle we don’t even see them but they still have an effect. We’re encouraged to covet things that are out of our price range, to prize all things luxurious. Plus, our economy only works if productivity is high, and productivity will only be high if people feel they’re getting something out of working. Unfortunately, that “something” for most people is a paycheck, and they need that check to pay for all their stuff. Our reward for working too much is purchasing power, so putting money aside and delaying gratification feels like not getting paid at all.

I have now finally gotten to the point where it actually makes me nauseous to think about spending money. I look at my closet and curse last year’s winter coat for keeping me in debt. I have retired the credit cards and am now at $15,000 in debt; I am hoping that, if I transfer my balances and keep saving the way I have been, I’ll get that paid off within two years at the most. Most importantly, I have made a decision to stop shopping for a year and see what that does to my debt— I’m guessing that with some dedication and a little luck, I may just stay on the wagon, and enter my thirties debt-free. When I emerge on the other side, I may still like to shop, but not if I have to borrow money to do it.

By Amy Westervelt

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