Prime Time 7/8, Writing, Arbeitsheft

9 38 9 Consumerism | Trade and commerce 9.1 Text input My year of no shopping The idea began one day over lunch with my friend Elissa, someone I like but rarely see. She walked into the restaurant wearing a fitted black coat with a high collar. “Wow,” I said admiringly. “Some coat.” She stroked the sleeve. “Yeah. I bought it at the end of my no-shopping year. I still feel a little bad about it.” Elissa told me the story: After travelling for much of the previous year, she had decided she had enough stuff, or too much stuff. She made a pledge that for twelve months she wouldn’t buy shoes, clothes, purses or jewellery. I was impressed by her discipline, but she shrugged it off. “It wasn’t hard.” I did some small-scale experiments of my own, giving up shopping for Lent for a few years. I was always surprised by how much better it made me feel. But it wasn’t until last New Year’s Day that I decided to follow my friend’s example. My plan had been to give up what Elissa gave up – things to wear – but a week into my no-shopping year, I bought a portable speaker. When I got it home I felt ridiculous. Shouldn’t “no shopping” include electronics? I came up with my own arbitrary set of rules for the year. I wanted a plan that was serious but not so draconian that I would bail out in February, so while I couldn’t buy clothing or speakers, I could buy anything in the grocery store, including flowers. I could buy shampoo and printer cartridges and batteries but only after I’d run out of what I had. I could buy plane tickets and eat out in restaurants. I could buy books because I write books and I co-own a bookstore and books are my business. Could I have made it a full year without buying books? Absolutely. I could have used the library or read the books that were already in my house, but I didn’t; I bought books. The trick of no shopping isn’t just that you don’t buy things. You don’t shop. Halfway through the year I could go to a store with my mother and sister if they asked me. I could tell them if the dress they were trying on looked good without wishing I could try it on myself. Once I got the hang of giving shopping up, it wasn’t much of a trick. The trickier part was living with the startling abundance that had become glaringly obvious when I stopped trying to get more. Once I could see what I already had, and what actually mattered, I was left with a feeling that was somewhere between sickened and humbled. When did I amass so many things, and did someone else need them? If you stop thinking about what you might want, it’s a whole lot easier to see what other people don’t have. I came to a better understanding of money as something we earn and spend and save for the things we want and need. Once I was able to get past the want and be honest about the need, it was easier to give more of my money to people who could really use it. Of course, I know there is a vast difference between not buying things and not being able to buy things. Not shopping for a year hardly makes me one with the poor, but it has put me on the path of figuring out what I can do to help. I understand that buying things is the backbone of the economy and job growth. I appreciate all the people who shop in the bookstore. But taking some time off from consumerism isn’t going to make the financial markets collapse. If you’re looking for a New Year’s resolution, I have to tell you: This one’s great. (Ann Patchett, www.nytimes.com, 15 December 2017; adapted and abridged) 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 85 90 Nur zu Prüfzwecken – Eigentum des Verlags öbv