Wanting Everything Has Become Exhausting, Hasn’t it?

Working in retail for two decades has shown me that less is more.

For as long as I can remember I have been a consumer.

My mom and I loved to stroll through the local mall. We would walk around the big department stores eyeing all the goods. I was enamored by the organization of it all — everything in uniform rows. Shiny and glossy. Perfume hung in the air as my mom shopped the makeup counters. I knew my department…GIRLS 4–6X. I would run through before my mom could even get there so I could get a head start on what I wanted. I was five years old. Five.

Even at five years old there was always something I wanted: Barbie dolls, records, clothes. I was dialed in and I wanted to buy stuff. I kept an eye on my upcoming birthday or Christmas. I couldn’t wait to get more stuff.

In junior high, I wanted a Guess tote bag. The price tag was $20 and my dad said that was an insane price. Way too expensive! He teased me endlessly after he finally bought it for me. “Guess how much I paid for this tote bag,” he would joke. I didn’t care. I had my Guess tote bag to carry my books to school in so nothing else mattered…until I wanted something else.

I was obsessed with brands like Esprit and Benetton. Bold, primary colors adorned everything along with geometric shapes and stripes. This was it. This was so cool. The price tags were high so I usually just looked through the racks, wishing I could have one of everything and a huge closet to fit it all in.

I read through clothing catalogs that were sent to the house. Catalogs like J.Crew, Victoria’s Secret, and Delia’s. When a new one hit the mailbox I grabbed it and headed straight for the couch. I flipped through every page, read every description, and creased the corners of the pages that pictured things I wanted.

My color vocabulary was extraordinary for a child: peacock blue, kelly green, flamingo pink. I also knew the difference between an Empire waist and an A-line dress by the time I was 8. That’s how closely I read those catalogs. I was a fashion consumer as a hobby and as I grew up I added more things to my wish list. I wanted it all and it’s a good thing my parents didn’t give me most of it.

As I got older my consumerism remained strong. In high school, I wanted a car and to go to concerts and I wanted more clothes. In college, I wanted to travel and go snowboarding and I wanted more clothes. I got my degree in Merchandising, of course, and entered the workforce.

Working in retail was a natural choice. I was always at the mall anyway and now I could get a discount on all this stuff! Now I had first dibs on the new product. I loved opening shipment and sorting the new items. It felt like Christmas morning. I also loved executing markdowns. I had a freshly printed stack of paper and everything that was going on sale was listed there. The paper was warm from the printer and I would grab my markdown gun and head out to the sales floor. I got the first glimpse of the new sales and I could buy it right away at an even deeper discount. Score!

As I began to learn the retail business from the operational side some of the need to buy things faded away. Now that I have embraced developing people and truly found my place as a leader, it has eroded further. These days the things, tangible things, that I want are few and far between.

Every year I watch thousands of transactions take place. People fret over what to buy each other. They have lists and discuss washing instructions. Size, fit, color, and brands are scrutinized. Nothing will stop them from buying more stuff. During holiday they cross people off their lists, proud of their progress, and they ask for gift boxes. Mothers become disappointed that we’ve sold out of something that their kid must have for Christmas and I apologize for things I have no control over. Explanations (pandemic, supply chain) are met with stares and confusion…yeah but, I need this stuff...I can see it in their eyes.

I watch all of this transpire just to watch it all come back in the days and weeks that follow. We work hard to sell it but we work even harder to return it. No receipts, no tags, online returns. December 26th is the most difficult day to work in retail. The returns eclipse the sales and because we are not making much money we don’t get allotted very much payroll. The workload however has just increased by 100%.

We are all exhausted by the end of the holiday season and looking for a reprieve. Describing that feeling is difficult. It kind of feels like you have run a marathon and completed an LSAT exam in the same week…for six weeks straight. My parents, who live in another city, describe my holiday rush as me “going dark”. They get very little communication from me during that time simply because I do not have the time or energy to give. Every year it feels a little more superficial and I find myself thinking, what’s the point?

Gifts are fun to get but has it gotten out of control? Do fourteen-year-olds need electric bikes now and Gucci sneakers? I don’t know but it’s what I see.

My favorite denim jacket is now 13 years old. I buy plain black t-shirts in packs of three. I usually wear ripped boyfriend jeans and a black t-shirt every day. I like it. It’s comfortable and it will (probably) never go out of style. I take a backpack to work. I can also get ready in thirty minutes.

I live in a 700 square foot condo with my husband and my dog and I don’t want too much stuff these days. I want to spend time with that lovely husband and canine of mine. I want to go on walks and snuggle in blankets. I want to eat good food and learn about people and places. I want to travel or take a road trip, even if it’s somewhere close to home. I want to read and write and develop new skills. I want to volunteer my time and help people that need it. I want to see my family in Arizona. As I focus my energy on other things, the urgency to keep buying stuff dwindles.

Trying to keep up with the latest gadgets or fashion trends and comparing yourself to others is draining and pointless. We are raised to be consumers, even at five years old, so that desire is ingrained and hard to shake. Buying stuff can be fun but it can also feel empty. The newness wears off pretty quickly and then you’re just looking to fill that consumerism-black-hole.

Spending time with people that you care about who are genuine and authentic is essential. Having pets is grounding. Getting out into nature puts things in perspective. There’s nothing like standing under the Milky Way at night for an antidote to wanting everything. And live we must, because wanting everything is simply exhausting.