The Waiting Game

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-shot-of-an-hourglass-11873897/

Sometimes it feels like the whole world wants what’s in my wallet.

There’s always another bill to pay. There’s always something new to buy or consider buying.

When you live in a culture that glorifies no-friction shopping, going into “low-risk” debt, or the ability to go to a virtual yard sale whenever you want (i.e. Facebook Marketplace), saving money and being content with what you have becomes hard.

I think Americans increasingly have an unhealthy shopping obsession, and consumer marketing has expertly manipulated us for decades into thinking a want is a need. There are entire books and documentaries dedicated to this subject. I even saw a news article on Wall Street Journal today about how Goodwill is trying to expand its store presence into more affluent neighborhoods because they count on well-off people donating little-used, expensive clothing and accessories.

Are there things we need? Sure. But there are far fewer of those things than we are traditionally led to believe.

Here’s an example from my own life:

I’ve been doing research on buying an iPad Pro. I’ve had an iPad Pro before; I sold it years ago to help finance the purchase of the MacBook Pro I currently use. But now that Apple has further developed the iPad Pro into an incredible “flex” device for doing just about anything in any way you want, I’ve found myself wanting one again.

I’ve debated various features: screen size, processor generation, amount of storage, and whether I’d want a keyboard case. I’ve debated the price I’m willing to pay for one, and where to go to cheaply purchase one. I’ve even questioned whether having one might encourage me to be more visually artistic (touch screen + Apple Pencil = digital art) or whether I should just “make do” with a sketchbook and pencil for now.

Here's the truth, though, one that my inner “gimme, gimme, gimme” voice loves to ignore: I don’t need an iPad. For several years now, I’ve done absolutely every computing task I need to do perfectly well with my MacBook Pro and iPhone.

Oh sure, I can come up with a dozen reasons why it would be nice to have an iPad. But I don’t need another screen to stare at on a regular basis. And it wouldn’t be a good idea financially for me to drop a large chunk of cash from my savings on a new device when it’s entirely possible I’ll need that money for something else in the future.

Or, y’know, I could just keep that money as buffer savings, something that statistics show many people my age have precious little of.

With all of this in mind, I’ve started a mental experiment: the Waiting Game.

In other words, how long can I wait and save before buying a “nice to have” thing? How long can I simply appreciate the things I already own? How long will it take for me to learn to be content with the fact that my needs are already met—above and beyond, in some cases—and that slight discomforts can be overlooked or dealt with another way? The answer to these questions could potentially be “indefinitely”—or at least until the things I currently have wear out and need to be replaced.

If you can’t tell, I’ve been getting interested in minimalism and investment theory this year. Buying stuff, only to regret it later when it becomes clutter, starts gathering dust, or depreciates in value quickly, is just not fun anymore.

As I’ve played the Waiting Game, I’ve realized just how many other “wants” I can apply it to. There’s no limit, really, because the things I could want far outnumber the things I need. I also tend to think of (though not necessarily spend money on) expensive solutions to simple problems, just because the expensive solution is the “cool” or “fun” one. The Waiting Game is helping me reframe that mindset.

I’m getting a bit tired of modern marketing constantly trying to trick me into buying something that I’m probably just going to donate or resell for a fraction of the price within a couple years.

In fact, with Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales already beginning, I’m more determined than ever not to fall for deal traps or “treat yo’self” indulging, especially since many Christmas-season deals haven’t really been that good in recent years. During past Christmas shopping seasons, I’ve bought things on sale that I ended up regretting having spent any money on.

Furthermore, I’ve realized recently that “window shopping” while trying to resist buying is consuming too much of my time and only adding more unnecessary stress to my life. It’s taking time I could be spending planning out and writing my book. It’s taking time I could be using to read, do chores, study my Bible, or invest into loved ones and neighbors. And giving in to the desire to spend money frivolously drains funds that I could be investing or being generous with instead.

Playing the Waiting Game isn’t fun, because it feels like a constant battle to say “NO” to the consumerist mindset. But I believe it’s necessary. And I’m sure future me will eventually thank present me for doing so.