Obsessive shopping

House of cards  A short story By Maureen. Nov. 05

She adored Alvin Hall, the fast-talking American who sorted out people’s debt problems with the wave of a magic wand, and a film crew, plus some old fashioned straight talking about not buying things you didn’t need. But Alvin wasn’t with her when she went out shopping. Her  toddler, Sam, was, usually peacefully asleep in a buggy. And the only magic available was a piece of plastic. Several, actually. Nice, shiny, inviting.

The credit cards gave her a feeling of power and control. And even though she knew it was illusory, that there would be a time when she would have to pay up, she literally could not help herself. She was aware that she was spending longer and longer on the shopping expeditions, that the purchase choices  were getting harder to make, and she felt a little confused after a morning in the department stores. So much on offer, and all in a bright, clean environment, where at least if you said something to the shop assistant, they were obliged to actually reply to you. They rarely completely blanked her, unlike the women with hard faces outside the nursery where she left Sam, for a few precious hours of freedom for herself. She felt comfortable in the bigger shops, no-one was aggressive, mostly people tried to be helpful, and she could stop for a cup of real coffee. Not like in the village, where the shop mis-named The Coffee Pot would only offer a mug of instant Nescafe, hurled together by a miserable counter girl who clearly wanted to be elsewhere, and didn’t feel the need to welcome a customer in any way.

The bills arrived in the morning post, like a hangover following a drinking binge. But they were easily dealt with. She paid the minimum amount, each time, scraping together the very least required to  avoid a torrent of “extra” charges for late payments. But sometimes, when she stuffed the bills into the secret drawer where she kept them, the dates and figures would start to get jumbled in her head. And even with the best of intentions, she might miss a key date. Alvin would not approve.

Of course, she had no income now to justify getting new cards, which was the way she had dealt with the problem in the past, when she had money, and some status. The shift in her financial circumstances on becoming a mother had been rather slow to sink in, and though she had scaled down the spending, and felt rather virtuous about it, actually, it still didn’t match her tiny income. So she could no longer play the credit card game of hunting for new 0 % offers, and being a smug “rate tart”, juggling the debts, believing that she was actually winning against the giants of the business world. But in a funny way she still believed that she was winning, in  slow-motion, as she was spending much more than she was re-paying. Like an optimistic gambler at the roulette table, or the racing fan risking his shirt on the sure thing - it was the same kick she got out of the spending, the statement of intent that she could still be a player.

She did economise, really – especially taking care to hunt out sale bargains. The “50% off” sign was a  lure that she always took advantage of. Sometimes she even bought  two of the items. That saved 100%. That the interest charged long-term on credit card would soon outweigh the price cut involved hadn’t actually penetrated her deeper consciousness. Actually, she went further with the bargains, sometimes adding up the “savings” made and using that to justify a splurge on something not necessary, like a new pair of shoes in softest leather, and a ridiculous colour that she would never wear.  But that was fine, really, as she had “saved” the money for them by not paying full price for the sale bargains. That proved she could be careful with money. Alvin would understand. He had nice shoes.

She started to watch more television programmes, and liked The Bank Of Mum and Dad, where people were shown trying to reform callous, lying teenagers with spending patterns that far outstripped their poor parents’ incomes. She could see how silly the mums and dads  were being, and really, wasn’t it insane that the parents just caved in all the time?
She wouldn’t be like that. Sam would learn from her example, she’d start a savings account for him as soon as things were a bit more straight, and she’d paid the latest, unexpected  bill for the electrician, who’d charged £40 for a five minute job which had involved replacing a rubber washer worth an estimated 5p. If it hadn’t been that the washing machine was splashing water  rather too near the electric switch then she might have ignored it, but she knew that was dangerous, and so it had to be fixed and paid for. She hadn’t got any savings herself, so it had to be paid by credit card. And Christmas was coming, she had to make that special, for Sam’s sake. But that was OK, she had her priorities. Her family came first. Alvin would understand. He knew about setting priorities.

It was only when she was listening to Woman’s Hour one morning that she caught a glimmer of insight. It was some do-gooder from the Citizens’ Advice Bureau explaining how people were getting into trillions of pounds worth of debt, and that the average family owed a zillion pounds each, with no hope of ever repaying it. And the counsellor  was warning people against repeating family patterns of indebtedness,

Well, of course not. As if. Though she did, now she thought of it, remember how she used to go to the grocer’s shop with a list from her mum, but she didn’t have to take money, because the bill was settled at the end of the week. And school clothes were bought with Provident cheques, in special stores that accepted them, and then the man came round to the house for the payment for them. It was more convenient that way, her mother had said. They had hunted for bargains together in the market. And anything big, like furniture, was bought on Hire Purchase, which the man of the house had to sign for, as women were mainly housewives and mothers, without an income of their own.
 
 The counsellor was advising people to check their strategies for dealing with debts, urging them to avoid multiple cards, and especially store cards. (She had a few of them for Sam, well, he grew out of things so quickly, and a couple for herself). And she particularly urged people to be careful of using the O % new card option, transferring a debt and stopping paying the interest, then feeling a sense of relief and continuing to spend again on the old cards. As she listened, she had the strangest feeling of sinking into a quicksand made up of slippery pieces of plastic.  Funny that, she remembered, Alvin had said much the same thing. And she had cut up a few of the old cards on his advice. But then the shiny new ones had arrived….. and they were so pretty. Magic really.

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