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One day at work 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 when payday arrived: I launched every retail application on my device. From Amazon to Zara, you name it. Within the space of an hour, I had spent £90 on clothes, home decor and a completely useless weighted blanket that never touched.

A few days later, I returned to the internet and purchased a hairdryer. I already owned one, but reasoned another wouldn't be a problem. Then I included LED strip lights and two pairs of shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn't a new pattern. In reality, I’d been infamous for it since I started earning.

Whenever I felt anxious, exhausted or uninterested, I would mindlessly scroll until it always culminated in an unplanned shopping binge. My justification was always: “It's only £5.” But £5 turned into £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never completely sure about the reason. Perhaps it was due to my upbringing in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without purchasing new outfits or anything to brighten up the house. So any time I had some disposable income, there was always a hidden desire for novel and exciting things. Or possibly, and almost certainly, I was just bad with money and succumbed readily to capitalism’s consumerism.

A Revolutionary Approach

In the end, I decided to try a novel idea. Prior to acquiring any item, I’d put it in my digital cart, wait 24 hours, then make a choice whether to finalize the purchase. The greatest advantage of this technique was that it provided me time to think – something I’d never taken. For the first time since adulthood, I started questioning: “Do I truly require this? Can I afford it?” More often than not, the response was no.

If I opened my shopping apps and found items sitting in my cart, I’d remove them and begin anew. Using this system, I stopped buying things that I knew deep down I would never use. I once considered buy three board games, but after a waiting period before visiting the store, I understood I never actually engage with board games.

I also wanted to buy a single-use camera for my first holiday to the coast. After pausing I recalled I possessed a smartphone, similar to most people, that has a perfectly adequate lens, and thus had no requirement to buy a dedicated device.

The Enduring Benefits

It additionally means I am more discerning about the things I do buy, and I can at last review my bank statements without feeling shame or discomfort.

Naturally, there have been occasions I’ve relapsed into old patterns – it's human nature. The difference now is that I can recognise the warning signs sooner, particularly when I’m hastening into a purchase. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful catalyst. It’s perhaps the primary driver of my reckless spending.

Modern culture preys on this boredom and our need for instant gratification. That’s the reason, in hindsight, forcing myself to pause before buying has felt strangely freeing. Gaining command over my urges and reaffirming that I don't have to spend my hard-earned money on non-essential goods feels as radical as it is simple.