I’ve noticed that part of my own brain is starting to rebel against my own advice about cutting back and saving money. Right now, I just need to say this out loud. I am honestly annoyed at my own nagging about how we should all spend less, and I’ve been trying to understand why. Here is what I’ve figured out about myself, and I think the same probably applies to a lot of us.
Governments sometimes talk about something called “common payment morality,” usually as an explanation for why they won’t forgive people’s tax debt. The idea is that it would feel unfair for your neighbour to be let off the hook when you pay what you’re supposed to.
Right now, interest rates keep rising, even though banks are posting record profits. Fuel prices are sky high, even though energy companies are paying record dividends to shareholders. Electricity costs more than ever, even though the power companies have never made more money. Food prices are exploding, even though the people who own the grocery chains hardly know what to do with all their earnings.
Taken together, all of this quietly undermines “common payment morality.” Your willingness, and mine, to keep doing our part through taxes and responsible spending gets thinner every year. The message to ordinary people was supposed to be that it’s finally our turn. What we actually see is that corporations and billionaires are doing better than ever, while the rest of us are told to take shorter showers.
It won’t help my irritation to know the numbers. A half-empty fridge doesn’t feel any better because a government fund somewhere is doing well. Even if, in thirty years, I might benefit from it myself.
So I sat down and thought about it. Am I punishing the politicians and the billionaires by refusing to follow my own advice, taking shorter showers, spending less, shopping smarter?
Of course I’m not. I am only punishing myself and my family. All these rising costs for electricity, petrol, and food just mean that my wife and I can’t enjoy a nice bottle of wine on a Friday night, that we can’t take the kids to the pool once a month, and that we probably can’t afford a week of sun this summer.
The thought of a holiday abroad made me reflect a little. I have no problem haggling with a beach vendor in Spain when he comes by with towels to sell. So why can’t I do the same thing at home? Is it because I think it’s embarrassing? That people will think I don’t have money? Is it about dignity?
So I went to the sports shop, determined to find out. I had literally run a hole in my old trainers and needed new ones.
I put my dignity on the shelf, and I said it straight to the man behind the counter: “I can’t really afford these shoes, but they fit perfectly. What can you do?”
He looked at me a little strangely. I asked him: “Does anyone ever haggle here?” He said: “Almost never.”
He gave me a small discount. I saved about fifteen euros. When I walked out of the shop, I asked myself: how is my dignity doing right now? Actually, just fine. Nobody cheated anyone. The shop assistant still made a sale. I even felt a little proud. Half the cost of a family trip to the pool, saved.
Then I went to the supermarket and did the whole week’s shopping. My goal was to come in below what we’d usually spend. I didn’t quite make it, so I swapped out one of our planned meals for something simpler: fried eggs and a salad. That brought the total down significantly.
It’s not a bottle of wine. It’s not a family outing. But it is a little piece of that summer holiday.
So I want to challenge you, especially if you have a little extra to spare, to try the same. Ask. Haggle. Swap dinner for something simpler once in a while. What’s really wrong with eating fried eggs for dinner?