Mispurchase

Analyzing bad purchases (mostly mine)

Confessions of a Book Binger

Photo by Ian Muttoo

I’m currently in the throes of a book binge. The topic of my obsession this time around, ironically enough, is consumer psychology. Past book binge themes include Zen poetry, hypnosis, Marshall McLuhan and Tibetan Buddhist mind training.

I could go on and on.

So far in this binge I’ve only purchased two books: To Buy or Not to Buy: Why We Overshop and How to Stop and The Culture Code. There are eight other books in my crosshairs. I haven’t pulled the trigger and bought them yet, partly because I’m trying to correct my impulsive behaviour and partly due to the crushing reality that I simply can’t afford them.

The first book To Buy or Not to Buy I purchased on the Kindle and ravenously devoured it in one sitting. The book is written by April Lane Benson, a psychologist who specializes in the treatment of compulsive buying disorder. The book is an eye-opener and helped me understand why I buy bad domain names.

This book should have been enough, at least for a while. It was a full course meal. But rather than allowing myself to feel satiated I bought The Culture Code last night and read that too.†

Well, most of it. As the book went into examples, I was looking at the menu again, jonesing for the next title. I did a few more searches for books and found another one I can’t afford. Even if I could afford it, would I read it? Half the books I buy in a book binge go unread. Some are even unopened. This often happens with used books I order from third party dealers. By the time I get the book via snail mail, my interest in that subject has burned out like a car fire and I’m on to my next obsession.

The problem got so bad that I’d rather skim the scanned text on Google Books instead of buying the physical copy.

Digital books aren’t as much of an issue, although there too I’ve been known to bite off more than I can chew. I use Goodreads to shelf a candidate on my ‘Want to Read’ list in the unlikely case I’ll still want the book later. It’s a rare case when Goodreads saves me money; usually it is enticing me with tasty new titles and priming me for my next binge.

And there will be a next binge. Plenty of them, I hope. When I book binge there’s often a satisfying click in my mind as mental maps connect to create a more wholistic understanding. I read faster and retain more of what I read too. It’s how I finished 100 books last year and plan to do so again this year.‡

The main downside to book binging is the cost: some books, even digital ones, are prohibitively expensive. Full disclosure: I once bought an e-book for a hundred dollars. It was a pure impulse buy. The extravagance of such a purchase and the fact I abandoned it after only a few pages is a mistake I will never repeat.

End of story.


† The Culture Code is an instructive book. It reminds me of Carl Jung’s Association Method and my “redesign” of it called Critical Stimulus.

‡ We'll get to signalling in an upcoming post ;)


Thanks for reading this rather rough draft by Jason Comely. If you're into introspection, mind hacks and the like, consider subscribing to my newsletter.

Why My 22 Minute Workout was Out-to-Lunch

Photo by E'Lisa Campbell

Yesterday I cancelled my gym membership. It was only three months ago that I signed up.

A lot has been said about gym memberships going unused, especially after New Year’s resolutions are made. My motivation to sign up was not goal driven and only modestly fitness driven.

The reason why I plunked down my credit card and signed up was because it was right next door to my workplace. Instead of eating a boring lunch and suffering through the depressing small talk of co-workers, I could slip in during my 30 minute break and do a quick workout while listening to an audiobook. I resolved not to workout before or after my job because I already spend to much time away from home. By working out at lunch I was wringing the most juice out of my mandatory eight and a half hour work day.

After a week of fumbles, fake starts and a few exhilarating workouts that felt like micro-holidays, I tweaked the workouts to exactly 22 minutes (anything less than 22 minutes, I think, is too short and would not derive any benefit). The remaining eight minutes was for punching off and on the clock, getting there and back, and changing my clothes.

As you can imagine, my plan allowed no flab. For it to work, execution had to be a near-flawless performance.

Well, there is an oft-cited saying that “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry”. That certainly proved true in this experiment. My plan often did go awry. One common delay was other patrons in the change room. No matter what corner I picked, someone would take an adjacent locker and finish their workout just before me. They’d be in their underwear just as I walked in.

I don’t know about you, but this heterosexual guy doesn’t like disrobing beside strangers. I am a shy and private person to a fault. In this predicament, I used the urinal and washed my hands to kill time, but that wasn’t factored into the plan. I would return to work late.

The other glitch in my plan was technical; my smartphone battery or my wireless earbuds would sometimes be dead on arrival. Yes, I’d soldier on and do the workout without the accompaniment of an audiobook, but it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. It felt less like a micro-holiday and more like manual labour to dance music.

Then two days ago I was called into the manager’s office for disciplinary action. I was late too many times and issued a written warning (my first). I was hoping they were overlooking my extended lunches all along, but that was magical thinking.

I suspect trying to get fit on 22 minute workouts is magical thinking as well.


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Why I Buy Bad Domain Names (And You Do Too)

Photo by Leonid Mamchenkov

I have approximately 60 domain names. Some are in use now. A few will be used once I flesh out a concept. The rest, well, are bad domain names.

Here are some examples I quickly skimmed from my pile:

dollarstorediner.com flowplow.com flowsquall.com stimforthe.win whirrk.com

I told you they are bad. Over the years, I've let many expire. If I calculated how much money I've spent on bad domain names over the years, the total would probably make me weep.

(I know I'm not alone on this either. You readers that fit in the creative, entrepreneurial psychographic have your own stash of bad domain names).

To Register or Not to Register

After reading April Lane Benson's book on chronic shopping, I've come to realize that my domain name buying is a form of overshopping not unlike compulsive spending at the mall or collecting LEGO kits. My rationalizations vary depending on the domain name. I often rationalize that it will be taken by someone else if I don't register it right away. I've also been known to register domain names to protect an idea I'm working on from being copied.

But what about bad domain names like the ones I listed above? These are domain names that no one would ever want. What rationalization did I possibly use to buy them? When I look back and analyse what happened, I realize there was no rationalization beforehand or even justification afterwards.

These purchases were purely emotional. An act of desperation. It's my way of sabotaging the process so I can get some temporary relief and resolution.

I'll explain: thinking of a good domain name that aligns with your idea is easy. Thinking up a good dot com domain name that aligns with your idea and that isn't already registered? That is hard. The cognitive load is akin to carrying a big unwieldy boulder in your arms. By making a decision and finalizing it with a purchase, I get to put the boulder down. My mind can stop it's vexing wordplay (and get a soothing hit of serotonin) when I click the buy now button.

Aftershock

Looking back at those particular (mis)purchases, I recall there were no lasting feelings of elation afterwards. That's reserved for when I purchase actual good domain names. With bad domain names, the relief dissipates quickly, sometimes within a few minutes of purchase, and cognitive dissonance sets in.

I realize the domain name is unworkable, and the vexing wordplay begins anew.


Thanks for reading this rather rough draft by Jason Comely. If you're into introspection, mind hacks and the like, consider subscribing to my newsletter.