Confessions of a 1-Click Addict
I used to have a weakness for shoes. I bought the same style in three different colors if I really loved them. But over the last several years, my focus—or habit, if you want to be brutally honest, has shifted. I’ve succumbed to an addiction of how insanely easy it is to acquire the written word.
It started out with discounted books at a used book store, sale racks at Books A Million, Barnes and Noble, even Borders. Then I bought my first smart phone and downloaded the Kindle app. Suddenly, I’m surfing the web on a tiny screen my mother would say is guaranteed to give me a permanent squint. Yes, Amazon is the supplier of my fix.
When I think of impulse buying, I envision people standing in line at the 24-hour pharmacy eyeing the Chia Pets and trying to decide which will serve as the perfect gift for their spouse because they just remembered their spouse’s birthday is today.
My 1-click purchases are more an exercise in efficiency. The retail geniuses at Amazon have created a method that spawns these unrelenting urges that must be satiated while I’m still in my pjs, eating my cereal in the mornings. Or well past the hour the brick and mortar paragons are open. It happens when I read a blog post promoting an author’s new release—cough—Kat Cantrell’s upcoming release or Colette Auclair’s release yesterday, or a book that will make me a better writer.
Within the post there’s a hyperlink. There’s always a hyperlink. To my supplier. And my finger zeroes in on the spot on my phone’s screen faster than a mosquito can tap the jugular of a tourist in Florida during August. The mega-enterprise remembers little ol’ me and keeps me logged in so I don’t have to bother with that silly exercise of reentering my personal information. My phone is their mule, betraying me with the cookie crumbs of previous data too. I receive emails on release day for the authors I’ve previously bought using this powerful aphrodisiac.
Thankfully, Amazon reminds me when I’ve bought this very same book two months prior as a pre-order before they allow me to give them my money again. Oh, the temptation at my fingertips. Oh, the weakness of my resolve. Oh, the enabling tendency of their efficiency.
And my impulses are not restricted to one genre. I buy “how to” books, I buy books from a host of authors I’ve never heard of, in genres I don’t usually read, because they were featured on blogs I frequent and the author’s story sounded funny or intriguing and before I know it, I’m tapping the screen in my quest to assuage my hunger for more books on my bookshelf or my phone. I won’t even mention the cherry-on-top chaser of free shipping when I’ve reached a specific dollar amount with my purchase.
When I visit Amazon’s site, they offer up this buffet of all the latest and greatest within my reader preferences. What does it say about me that I can scroll through five pages of six book images and keep going because I’ve already devoured those and am on the hunt for more? I’m weak, I’m easily lured, and I’m agog at the simplicity and ease that I can get my hands on my brain stimulus or birthday and Christmas gifts, all with a single click of my unpainted fingernail.
I try to rationalize my addiction with a reminder of the price of fossil fuel. I drive an SUV. Whether you are a ‘save the planet’ by driving an electric car or ‘walking’ sort of person, I live in the country and we do not have little electrical outlets to plug things into every 10 miles nor a lot of sidewalks. I buy lots of stuff it would take five trips in a Prius to bring home. Trust me, my hubby used to own a diesel VW Bug. He bragged about his 50 miles to the gallon—until he needed mulch from Lowe’s. Ha! Who drives the big-girl vehicle now? But I digress.
And the Amazon site is sooo friendly. It greets me with “Hi Karen” when I stop by. I mean, you don’t get that kind of customer service at some banks and they already have your money.
I’m trying to overcome my habit, but most of the experts say recovery involves a 12 step program. I have 2 problems with that. My habit is a 1-click issue. Do you have any idea how many books I can buy in 12 clicks? And I’m sure I’ll need to go to Amazon to find one of those 12 step books for kicking my 1-click addiction. It’s a vicious cycle. Did I mention, they carry shoes on their site as well? Oh, bother.
