A quick note about me: I tend to get just a little bit obsessive when I’m considering buying something. I research extensively, but more or less only to confirm my own bias that the object I desire is worth purchasing, ignoring all evidence to the contrary. Recently, this fixation has manifested itself in my journey to buying a Fitbit. I’ve been attempting to maintain a healthier lifestyle, but sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that with every painful step, I spite Donald Trump. Surely, the investment of $150 into a trendy little device would further encourage me to get more exercise, if only so that I haven’t wasted money.
Image via Curtis MacNewton/Unsplash
Here’s the thing—I’m not willing to invest one hundred and fifty of my semi-hard-earned dollars into anything. I asked my mother to send me $5 for ice cream just the other day. So this is how it came to be 8:00 on a Friday night, wherein I’ve just spent the past twenty minutes looking for the absolute cheapest deal on a Fitbit Charge 2. EBay and Amazon have failed me, and Target can only offer me 5% off with a RedCard. Fortunately, my Internet sleuthing has led me to a place called slickdeals.net, which informs me that Belk currently has all Fitbits on sale, and the one I want is marked down to $111.99. Not only is this a quality discount, but they’re willing to send me another coupon if I sign up for emails (emails which are to be delivered at a rate of approximately three every hour)! This is all well and good, except for one thing—this is such a good deal that the product is out of stock.
I call Belk to inquire about some sort of email list which will notify me about when the stock is replenished. After being informed by a woman with a heavy Southern accent that “we don’t do that here, ma’am”, I resign myself to clicking refresh on the webpage every twenty minutes until I die. But I’m saved from a death by clicking when I remember about price matching. I am but a phone call away from the technology of my dreams, and at such a low price! I dial Macy’s, more or less with the intent of just gathering information.
I initially give the man on the other line the wrong product to compare, which of course I realize just slightly too late. By the time he finishes consulting with his supervisor about the correct product, concluding that they will price match, I’ve already invested about 15 minutes in this phone call alone. When he asks for my credit card number, I feel that it would ultimately be ruder to not give it to him. Besides, with the amount of time we spent straightening out that I go to Agnes Scott, not Agnes Dot, I practically deserve it.
When I hang up the phone, having impulsively spent $120 (sales tax strikes again!), I look at the clock. It is now 9:00, an hour past the time I normally go to the gym. I’m tired, frustrated from communication issues, and out rather a lot of money. Haven’t I spent this long doing okay without a Fitbit? Have I not managed to run, to make somewhat decent food choices, and to be mindful of my sleep without a device that tells me how to breathe? The answer to these questions is yes. While I walk from the dorm to the gym, I look at my confirmation email (noting as I do so that the address is still not quite right). I tap the helpful box that says “cancel order”, and proceed to do just that. As I take the first few miserable steps on the treadmill, unencumbered by a step tracking gadget, I realize I’ve forgotten a ponytail holder.