Christmas Shopping

If you’re anything like me, you finished your Christmas shopping last month. My presents are wrapped, and cards written, just waiting for the Big Day.

I realise, however, that some people don’t do all of their present-buying in October, and I know that some of my friends are struggling with the amount of “compulsory” December spending.

In my office alone there are two Christmas lunches (£25 and £14), and an ice-skating trip (£18) as well as a general Secret Santa (£10) and a bargain one for just our cohort (£1).

That’s £68, before we even get a drink.

 

Then there are presents for family and friends. This year I’ve cut down on gifts for other people; I’ve bought things for my parents, my little sister and my godson, but nothing for the extended family. None of my friends are getting presents either. What a tight-fisted shopaholic, hey?

 

Well, I’m not expecting presents from those I don’t buy for. It’s a mutual agreement.

I stopped giving and sending out Christmas cards a while ago, too. It seems like a generational shift. None of my friends post me cards, but I still get them from aunties and uncles, godparents and long-time-no-see family friends.

These days the price of a stamp is surely prohibitive for most people. A pack of 10 Oxfam Christmas cards is £3.99. Even if you sent everything second class, at 50p a go, the stamps for those cards will cost you a fiver. So that’s £9 for cards to ten people. Supposing I sent a card to each of my Facebook “friends” that would set me back £221.

As for gifts, my advice is to set your budget before you shop. Don’t go rushing out to the shops on Christmas Eve, desperate to find something. The sales assistants know you’re desperate.

A couple of my favourite sites for Christmas prezzies:

http://www.oxfam.org.uk/shop

http://www.iwantoneofthose.com

 

Unless you’re shopping with me in mind, in which case:

http://www.tiffany.co.uk/

http://www.linksoflondon.com/gb-en/online-shop/women

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Day 76: The 8p Voucher

So, today I got handed three different vouchers with my supermarket receipt.

Voucher 1:

9p off per litre of fuel when you spend £20 on toiletries and healthcare

To make a saving: buy more than 222 litres of fuel (in one go, of course)

Voucher 2:

8p off per litre of fuel when you spend £20 on clothing

To make a saving: buy more than 250 litres of fuel (in one go, of course)

My car holds 47.7 litres. So I’d have to bring along 5 and a quarter of my little cars to make my money back (assuming I’m not that into the supermarket’s fashion range). Who has 5 and a quarter cars?!

Voucher 3:

Literally just an 8p voucher.

Come on, supermarkets. . . Are you just trying to bamboozle people who aren’t accountants?! I don’t actually want twenty quid’s worth of toiletries, or of supermarket-branded clothing! I certainly don’t want to have to bring my own fuel tanker along to the petrol station to just break even on your super-generous offers. . .

Your vouchers are going straight in the bin. Stop wasting paper, stop wasting my time, stop giving me stupid 8p vouchers.

Thanks!

Day 71: Control Freak

Are you taking me seriously?

I’ve said it before, but I’d like to reiterate that an addiction to shopping is similar in many ways to other well-known addictions. It’s not fun, or light-hearted or even to be smiled upon and indulged by others. It doesn’t come from nowhere; there’s always a reason.

This is not just buying the odd thing you don’t really need, or a big shopping splurge. Being a real shopaholic means that your life is totally consumed by it. Addicts devote huge amounts of time and energy to it. Some are bargain-hunters, and spend hours hunting for the cheapest version of a product. Others are serial buy-and-return types. Still others never actually buy very much at all, but spend so much time window shopping or browsing online that it dominates their life. Of course there are some who do spend in an out-of-control way, buying regardless of product price or bank balance. These people end up in crippling debt, all as a result of their “fashionable” addiction.

Shopaholics are not taken seriously, instead they’re derided or glamorised. Unlike alcoholism or an addiction to narcotics, there is no compassion for those “greedy”, “silly” or “materialistic” (usually) women who over-shop.

“Having more things means enjoying life less.”
– April Benson, PhD

There’s a vicious cycle to the addiction.
When I get upset or stressed out I buy myself a treat (or ten) to cheer myself up. Buying more “stuff” makes me feel like a failure, and rocks my financial stability. I get upset and stressed. I’ve lost control.

I feel rubbish when I lose control; in fact, I’m a control freak. I’m extremely uncomfortable when I’m not able to direct my life, like a play.

Getting dumped, being made redundant or losing a loved one; these are the kind of thing we can’t do anything about. I handle this kind of situation spectacularly badly. I try to find a reason, or some way that it was “my fault”. At least if it’s my fault, that means I can just go back and change whatever I was doing wrong, and then everything will be alright again.

Sometimes the company you work for can’t afford the staff salaries. Sometimes he’s “just not that into you”. Sometimes someone dies before you get a chance to tell them how much you love them. It’s not in your sphere of control; there’s nothing you can do.

When things like this happen, joy and self-esteem are sapped, and I snap. I shop. I think it will bring me joy, boost my self-esteem. Perhaps it will give me back control; over what I look like, what I own. The reverse is true. The cycle begins.

Life’s sometimes like a pressure cooker, and it’s tough trying not to explode.

Somehow, you have to release the tension. Whether that’s through exercise, yoga, meditation or whatever. Just please don’t make the mistake of thinking that a trip to the shops will help. It won’t.

Day 37: #EpicFail

For those of you who read my post on the Livingstone Tanzania Trust two days ago, prepare yourself for a stark shock.

Readers, I confess to you that I have slipped up. I have not kept to the budget at all recently. In fact, I would go so far as to say that, in diet-terms, I have just had an ice-cream/chocolate/crisps and cake all-out binge. And now I feel a little bit sick.

This used to happen a lot. It’s how I ended up buying an iPad, in fact. I was having a particularly rubbish day, and after leaving work, I went home via the shopping centre. Before I knew it I was walking out of a shop having just paid an inordinate amount for a gadget for which I had no need. It’s as though I’m in a hypnotic trance when it happens; my head is wrongly programmed to react with “BUY! BUY! BUY!” in response to sadness, stress or anger.

Recently, though, I’ve been a lot better. I think this is to do with feeling accountable, as a result of writing this blog. I could have just lied to you all, and pretended that I was behaving like an angel, making no mistakes, and generally being perfect. I’m not, though. Obviously.

However, I have been feeling a bit low, and my old shopping habits came back in force. I even used all my old excuses to let myself get away with it, to convince myself that I was doing nothing wrong. “It’ll be an early Christmas present (to myself)” or “Well, I do really need it” or even “If I buy it on my credit card, it doesn’t count as part of this month’s budget”. It’s just too easy to click “Buy Now” in an internet browser, without thinking through the consequences.

Fortunately, I haven’t quite gone to iPad extremes, this time.

I know I need to do something more useful, less destructive, to help myself when I’m down. I’m too hyper for yoga, pilates or meditation. But, generally, I’m open to ideas. Readers, please, I’m depending on you now! What should I do to calm down and relax, without resorting to shopping? All ideas will be appreciated. You can write on the wall of the Shopaholic Cuts Back Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/ShopaholicCutsBack) or in the comments box below.

Thanks, readers!

xxx

Day 28: Cashback Queen

Hi everyone! Say “Happy Birthday” to my Mum, please 🙂

Tell me something, readers, is this cash-back thing a really well-kept secret, or have I just been oblivious to the whole movement?

Recently I signed up for a cash-back website, as part of my Money-Making Challenge.

Essentially, instead of buying things directly from a shop’s website, you find a link on the cash-back website, which tracks your purchases, and gives you cash in proportion to how much you spend.

The only snag to this approach is that, as with discount voucher websites, you have to be very disciplined in only buying what you would have bought anyway – deal or no deal.

So, for example, I’m in desperate need of a new pair of shoes for work. Rather than going straight to the retailer, I go via the cash-back site to the same page. I buy the shoes, with free delivery and am also given 6.5% of the price off the shoes, in cash, for making the transaction. Mental, or what?!

There’s another money-spinner on the website. Once you’ve downloaded the free app onto your phone, you “check-in” whenever you get to a shop featured on the site. This action of clicking to check-in earns you between 5p and 15p. Yes, okay, it won’t make me a millionaire overnight, but it all adds up very quickly. If you’ve got time on your hands, you can spend ten minutes walking in and out of shops, clicking, and earning yourself a couple of quid.

Getting paid for window shopping? Now that’s what I like to hear.

I realise several of you will be worrying about the Orwellian feel to this; retailers track everything I buy from one centralised site. My movements are also followed, by that apparently harmless act of “checking in”.

From my perspective, retailers already have much of this information. Think of those side-of-page adverts that show you the dress you were just looking at on another website yesterday. Or CCTV, which could follow our movements up and down the country, if anyone felt like doing so. Equally, my Nectar card has already categorised me into one of six groups, as a result of each and every purchase I have made, from paint at Homebase to milk at Sainsbury’s. Tesco’s Clubcard, and other loyalty cards, do exactly the same.

This is just one more option for Big Brother to watch me, and it doesn’t feel any more or less sinister than those other ways.

Sorry, freedom-fighters, I’ve lost my integrity: I’m opting for the cash these days…

Spender or Saver?

[By the way, results are completely anonymous!]

Day 6: Just Another Manic Monday (couldn’t resist, sorry…)

Hi readers! (I have readers – it’s VERY exciting)

Back to work Monday blues? Look to Noel Coward, who advocated that “if you must have motivation, think of your pay cheque on Friday”.

I had a busy weekend in my new status as “recovering shopaholic”. It was interesting how many people got in contact to let me know that they were in a similar situation to me, living beyond their means, and dipping into credit or savings by the end of the month. I suppose it shouldn’t have been such a surprise.

Last Tuesday, the Independent reported that women have an average £22,418 of debt. 11% reported keeping their debt levels hidden from their partner. I find it upsetting that so many people (and women, especially) are secretly in debt, and running a monthly deficit. It also makes me question whether the stigma over debt is as bad as ever.

In years gone by you lived within your means, and society looked down on those in debt. Now, everyone’s encouraged to take on credit cards and payday loans, in order to buy a new sofa, iPad, or shiny Mini. Yet people are pretending that they can afford all this, while hiding the credit card bill. It’s a sham, to show to the world that they are successful, that anything you can buy, they can buy better.

Just take heart that if you’re struggling to make ends meet, many others are in the same boat. If I’ve learnt one thing from writing this blog, it’s that getting deeper into debt to keep up the façade is just plain silly. True friends will support you, not judge you.
—–

Right, I got a bit soppy there, so let’s get back to the practicalities, shall we?

When it neared lunchtime on Sunday, I idly considered wandering over to Caffè Nero to pick up an overpriced sandwich. As Savvy-Saver-In-Training, though, I stopped myself. Instead, I opened my kitchen cupboard and found a Narnia of hidden foodstuffs. This included two hot cross buns with a February 2012 use-by date. Oh dear.

Digging a little deeper, I found a whole load of tins (use-by date late 2014). I even got a couple of my 5-a-day in the form of a can of ratatouille. Chucking the veg, some couscous and a tin of mackerel into a saucepan made a super-yummy meal. Much more delicious, in fact, than a mass-produced, bland Nero panini. Carbohydrate, protein, vitamins and minerals; a cheap, nutritionally balanced and delicious lunch. Win!

Sources:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/personalfinance/borrowing/loans/9502775/Piling-debts-hidden-from-partners.html#

Day 1 : Facing Up To It

Like an alcoholic at her first AA meeting, today I’m taking the first step in admitting that I’m in trouble, and that I need help.

The debt crept up on me. Every month I’d get a couple of hundred pounds worse off, but I shrugged it off. Somehow, in my head, I was rich. It didn’t matter if I had the shadow of a steady deficit, because I’d be fine. Why? Because I’m middle class? Because my parents and grandparents never got into debt?

Mine is an old-fashioned family, where the word “debt” is synonymous with “shame”. It’s just not done. My parents have never bought a sofa, holiday, car, house or telly on credit. They work, and they save. I suppose I assumed I’d live my life in the same way, without actually putting in any effort to do so.

Admitting it, then, is the first step. I’m using two overdrafts and a credit card. I’ve got a car on credit. A mobile phone on a lengthy, pricey contract. I tied myself into a year-long gym membership because I could afford to do so at the time.

Deep breath. I’m in debt. I’m overspending to the tune of £200 a month. I need to change. This is my journey. Now. Live. Today.

Step 2: Potentially even harder, even more humiliating. I scuttle back to my parents. The very people who have brought me up to live within my means, and tutted and scowled at my compulsive purchasing and ugly materiality. I ask for £500, to stop the debts from boiling over.

In return for a promise to live more frugally, and to pay back the loan by 30th November, I am thrown a rubber ring. Now I just have to learn how to swim…