WRY BREAD: A Slice of My Life in Pursuit of Dough

My Cure for Shopaholics: Crave Savings!

By Gail Harlow

shudder to confess this: I almost bought a $1,000 chess set a few years ago. What was I thinking? I don’t even play chess! It had a gorgeous, sleek, ultra-modern board with a stately king and queen lording it over rows of gleaming crystal pawns, rooks, knights, and bishops. But beyond that, I can’t remember for the life of me now why it captured my imagination or what made it an object of such obsessive desire for me. What I do know is that I’m very glad I didn’t buy it. If I had, it would have sat unused on a corner table in my living room gathering dust, when instead that $1,000 could have been nesting in some bank vault gathering interest for me.

            Others might boast about buying a house, getting a college education, or selling high tech before the bottom fell out of the stock market as their smartest money decisions. All of those are good choices, but, for me, resisting temptation—not buying that chess set—was one of the wisest money decisions I’ve ever made; it was a life-changing,   “ah-ha” moment for me.  To this day, I remind myself of that chess set whenever the urge to splurge strikes. You see, I’m a shopaholic. I shop when I’m depressed, when I’m happy, when I want to reward myself—probably even, subconsciously, when I want to punish myself. How much of a shopaholic am I? When I hear someone say, “good-bye” I think they’re talking about a good buy. If I were a stock market analyst, “strong buy” would be the only two words I know. But almost buying that chess set helped me to “checkmate” my addiction. For some reason, the minute I picked up the phone to place the order, all of the other things that I could do (or buy) with $1,000 suddenly flashed in front of my eyes, and I hung up before the harried catalogue sales operator (they always sound so overworked, which I guess says something about our economy) could pick up.

            Now, before every major (or even minor) purchase I make, I stop and think about what else I could be doing with the money that I’m about to part with so cavalierly. “On a scale of 1 to 10,” I ask myself, “how much do I really want this THING? And what other THINGS do I want even more? If I buy this THING now, will I have the money later for that other THING that I want so much?”  It doesn’t matter if it’s a $10 lipstick or a $200 doodad; I always ask myself, “What else could I do with the money I’m about to spend?”  If answers like “pay the mortgage” or “take a trip,” or “get two of something else I’ve been wanting for the price of this one THING" occur to me, then I know I’m probably better off without that particular THING at this particular time. In chess, that’s called a “gambit”—sacrificing a piece to gain an advantage

            Desire, I’ve learned, is a relative and fleeting thing. Pass up this purchase now and, caught up in the rush and whirl of daily life, you’ll eventually forget that you ever wanted it—or, more likely, stumble upon something else you want even more and can now afford because you didn’t spend money on that THING you desired before. That’s when it’s time for you to consult your built-in “Desire Meter” again; ask yourself, “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I really want this new THING and what other THINGS do I want even more?”

            The secret of curing a spending habit is not so much in exercising restraint as it is in exercising choice—in knowing what you really want. Unless you’re as rich as Oprah, you have to pick and choose your purchases carefully. Know that once the money’s gone, it’s gone, no matter what great deal you might run across later in the month. Not only is it gone, but if you pay on credit, it keeps on costing you money in the form of interest long after you’ve lost interest in whatever it was you thought you couldn’t live without.  Which brings me to my second “ah-ha” money moment. The day I looked at one of my credit card bills and noticed that only $8.63 was going towards the balance and the rest of the $100-plus dollars I was paying each month was going towards interest, I realized it was time to stop paying just the minimum and get serious about paying down my debt. Now, even if all I can afford is $5 more than the minimum, I pay it. And I’m making progress.

            More and more, lately I realize that what really makes me happy is Money in the Bank. It’s the best thing I can give myself. Once you understand that money in the bank buys you freedom of choice and freedom from worry, you’ll crave savings like a drug. Money in the bank buys you the freedom to say yes to opportunity, no to oppression. It bought a friend of mine the freedom to walk away from a job when he felt his principles were being compromised. It gives some women the freedom to walk away from a marriage that isn’t working. It allows others to help relatives, friends or strangers, if they choose. It buys everyone a secure retirement. Now, when I pass up the latest “chess set” that is tempting me (fill in your own obsessive desire of the moment), I don’t tell myself that I’m not buying it because I’m broke or I’m poor. I tell myself that I’m not buying it because I choose to be rich. I’m not depriving myself; I’m giving myself more options, more choices, down the road.

            What did I do with that $1,000? I wish I could say that I put it in the bank. That part of the lesson came later. But it did go toward buying something that I use much more often than I would have used that gleaming chess set—it went toward buying the gorgeous, sleek, ultra-modern computer I’m working on right now.

            Advantage: Me.

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Gail Harlow is the founding editor of MAKING BREAD: The Magazine for Women Who Need Dough. E-mail her with your comments at gail@makingbreadmagazine.com.  

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