Why are we so obsessed with getting a good deal?

Oh hi, it's just me pondering capitalism 🤑

Photo by Mathieu Stern on Unsplash

The other night I found myself at Costco, on a long awaited shopping trip thanks to my partner’s brother and girlfriend bringing us along on their membership card.

As we entered the store, they mentioned that the items in the front tended to be things on sale. Right then I spotted my contact solution, one of my go-to Costco purchases. It was only later when getting the receipt, that we learned it was $5 off the original price of $21.99.

That night as I got ready for bed I compared the Costco value-size contact solution to the new one I’d bought just a few days ago from the grocery store.

I did the mental math as I brushed my teeth. $16.99 for 35 ounces of solution from Costco (two 16 oz bottles plus a bonus 3 oz travel size), compared to $13.99 for one 10 oz bottle. Making it 49¢/oz versus $1.39/oz—a 65% savings. What a deal I had just gotten!!! I was thrilled at the savings and felt victorious in my purchase decision.

Yet I am grappling with the grocery store bottle that sits unopened on my bathroom counter. I feel compelled to return it because now I don’t need it, having gotten the jumbo bottles at Costco. Sure, I know I will need it in the future, but I could recoup that $13.99 now since I won’t need that bottle for months and months. I felt silly, almost guilty, having purchased the same thing twice this week.

Feeling guilt about my usually quite sensible spending is nothing new (exhibit A). Money isn't something I’ve overtly talked about here on The Conscious Consumer, but it’s very much a part of my underlying thinking when it comes to all things (material) consumption.

Years and years ago, when I first started buying clothes for myself, I adopted the mentality of quality is better à la the the brand Cuyana, whose slogan is “fewer, better things.” While I wouldn’t call my closet a minimalist wardrobe by any stretch, I could easily pinpoint the higher quality items that I invested in and wore, or continue to wear, for years. I have never been one to gravitate towards fast fashion, instead opting to pay more for an item in the belief that it will last longer.

But try as I might, I still can’t resist a good “deal.” Especially when it's a quality article of clothing, like the pair of pants I recently bought for $15, an 89% discount from their original retail price. (*cue the applause*)

As someone who studied marketing in college, I know the psychology that goes into pricing items - e.g. it’s more attractive to mark something at $x.99 versus one cent more because the brain sees it as $x in the former scenario versus $x+1 in the latter. And that manufacturing a sense of urgency—a cost savings that will last for a limited time, or a limited number of items left—can get someone to spend money they otherwise wouldn’t have.

Nordstrom was a pioneer in the clothing industry when they started their annual Anniversary Sale which gives customers a preseason discount. In other words, they put brand new inventory on sale at the start of the season, versus near the end of the season when they are trying to clear out old inventory. It seems this strategy boded well for them, making them a standout and creating a very loyal consumer base (*raises hand*). According to this Seattle Met article, it’s enough to boost their summer sales to close to holiday levels.

While Nordstrom has struggled over the years and the sale doesn't feel as special as it once did, I can appreciate the company remaining true to itself with this tradition. Compare this to Amazon Prime Day, which my coworker noticed felt a lot more shady this year. I overheard her say she was no longer going to buy anything from Prime unless it was at least a $20 savings, as a result of observing some questionable pricing.

I was in my early 20s when I got my first credit card - it was out of necessity due to needing to pay for my travel upfront for an old job. Only then did I learn that my credit history was essentially nonexistent, despite having student loans and a car loan that I always paid on time. I remember being so frustrated when I learned this; the way my mind saw it was why should someone be penalized for not buying things on credit when they don’t need to? Shouldn’t the absence of credit usage be the utmost proof that someone doesn’t need it, and is therefore worthy of paying you back?

Of course now I know that no history isn’t proof for a lender; for all they know, you’re coming to credit for the first time because you have no more means. So it makes sense. However, this bullish mentality stuck with me and I was largely incessant on “not using credit if I didn’t have to” for a long time.

But as I’ve gotten older and learned more about how the credit industry works, and observed most of my friends putting as much as they could on their credit card to get the points, I changed my ways. Me trying to stick it to the man by avoiding credit cards wasn’t doing me any good. And it certainly wasn’t hurting the creditors. Instead it meant I was missing out on ways to maximize money I was already spending—in other words, on DEALS. There’s an entire media platform, The Points Guy, that started out of the founder's earnest effort to educate consumers on how to use credit cards to their advantage so they could save money on traveling.

Even my financial advisor suggested “credit hacking” as something to do since travel is important to me. While I have yet to upgrade my own personal card (moreso out of indecision than not believing in the recommendation), my boyfriend did so earlier this year and I can already see the difference it makes.

Opting into “deals culture” is still something I grapple with though — how do I participate in the capitalist system in a way that benefits me, without succumbing to the pressures of it? Especially when those pressures quite literally prey on our human psychology to take advantage of us?

I used to think I could outsmart it all by avoiding the system—the game—entirely. But in the case of capitalism, maybe it’s better to just play the damn game. Knowing full well you’re a pawn, but a pawn with a strategy.

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