The concept of shopping for satisfaction has always fascinated me. How could exchanging a few pieces of coloured paper for other, often unnecessary material goods have such a wondrous effect on the human psyche? Who knows. Maybe it boils down to the sense of joy one experiences from owning that which you previously did not. Or perhaps effective advertising was to blame. All I know is that buying stuff feels good. Although, I have come to realise that there is a pitfall to this, because having an empty wallet, does not.
Upon our arrival at the shopping centre, I noted that possibly every other person on the continent and the three generations before them, had exactly the same idea as we did. First stop was a coffee shop. Not that we needed any help in getting into the swing of things, but a caffeine induced boost would certainly help get the ball rolling. Sipping the last few drops of my cappuccino, I made a list of what I NEEDED as opposed to what I WANTED. My current wardrobe situation was looking bleak, so top priority for me was clothing. Exiting the coffee shop, I consulted my mental map of the centre layout in order to get to my next destination. But then I hit a road block. A few words, printed on a poster outside a book store completely threw me off course. “Winter Sale – 50% off”
Now, there is something that just completely draws me to books. It’s as if they have some kind of magical, magnetic effect on me even though I’m not an avid reader. The last time I finished reading an entire novel was probably somewhere during the Cretaceous period. Yet, I still found myself entering the store and wandering over to the heavily discounted stock. Within thirty seconds, my wife had found a book for herself. Two minutes into the exercise, and she had discovered a book by one of my favourite authors.
“Here, why don’t you get this one?” she said, thrusting it into my hands.
“Why not?” I mumbled.
Twenty seconds and a few meters since leaving the coffee shop was all it took to completely dissolve my NEED vs. WANT strategy. Once again, I blamed advertising. I wondered whether the “Willpower” store was located on this level. I needed to buy a large dose of that.
Next, we found ourselves in an accessory store. My wife needed to buy herself a watch. Or a pair of sunglasses. Preferably both. Compared to the rest of the centre, this particular shop was quite sparsely populated. It currently had a total customer count of two, including ourselves. But there was something even odder about this place. It seemed to have the floor space equivalent of a postage stamp, yet there were at least six assistants on duty. Now I’m no maths expert, but a quick calculation tells me that that equates to approximately 3,89 shop assistants per square centimetre. I mean, how much help could one possibly need in choosing eye or wrist gear? Glancing down at one of the display cabinets, I felt five pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head. Slightly awkward. Talk about close-quarters surveillance! I chose not to touch any of the items. I didn’t want a fingerprint or any trace of my presence there to be left once I made a hasty retreat. What happened next was mainly a hazy blur of events. I remember a lot of window shopping, or what I like to call, looking-at-things-I-really-realy-want-but-really-really-cant-afford. I also remember buying a bag of popcorn to keep my hunger pangs at bay. I eventually snapped out of my dream like state whilst paying for my parking ticket at the machine just beyond the exit.
After arriving home, I looked at what I had accomplished. I had in my possession one slightly unnecessary novel, one mostly empty bag of popcorn containing a few kernels and one very empty wallet. How that happened, I still don’t quite know. All I know was that I had bought something so it was all good. Although I was slightly saddened by the fact that there was not one item of clothing in my bag. Unless I could pull off wearing a shirt or pants constructed entirely from torn out paperback pages. Perhaps on the catwalks of Milan, that would do. Anything goes when it comes to fashion nowadays. But for now, advertising had once again won this round. Next time, I decided it wouldn’t be so lucky. The contents of my wardrobe were still looking dismal. And there was only one thing for it – a good dose of retail therapy.
