The Story of the Dodgy Pants and What Does Stuff Cost, Really?

I did something that I have only done a few times. I bought a pair of pants, on the recommendation of a YouTuber, and it was a mistake (just as the other two purchases were). But the price was ridiculously right, so why not try these Lulu dupes? The fit was fine-ish, BUT the smell, a noxious chemical scent, could not be washed out. The lifecycle of this product (in my life) started with minutes spent watching a video, quickly researching the product, ordering it, receiving it, SMELLING it, gagging over it, washing it twice, giving up on these terrible pants, starting a return, driving to return it, standing in line, making the return, checking that the product was received and a refund was given. The product eventually cost me $0. But did it? 

Time 

If I tally up the number of minutes I spent on these pants, I would estimate  that the time I spent going through this product’s bait and hook tactics into their sales funnel, and then being regurgitated back through the funnel to the point where a refund was given, cost me 60 minutes of my time. I spent 60 precious minutes of life on pants that I no longer have. Waste of resources; waste of time. Beyond these influencer debacles, I have consistently done this for years, item by item: things ordered online that were too small, or that broke during the shipping process, Christmas returns, or simply for things that weren’t shiny to me anymore after I opened the package. Carl Sandburg is believed to have once said, “Time is the coin of your life. It’s the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it is spent.” I apparently enjoy spending my precious coin buying and returning shiny things far too often. Things that unnecessarily ended up in my checkout cart. 

Money

Did I really spend $0? The trip to the store to return the item was not without cost. The price of gas and the wear and tear on my car are very real costs. The shipping store is seven miles from my house. While this could be batched with other errands to reduce the cost, that day it wasn’t. The IRS’ standard mileage rate for businesses which factors in gas, insurance, taxes, depreciation, and maintenance  is 70 cents, so under this standard the this trip cost me $4.90, which seems very generous, but considering that the average cost to operate a new vehicle is estimated to be $11,000 to $12,000 a year it doesn’t feel that generous. My car is older, but estimates still indicate that my annual vehicle costs would range between $6,500 to $8,500. That trip to make a return is definitely not free.  And if I want to really get into the weeds, my computer usage requires electricity, which also requires money. Computer usage could be broken down like care usage, and on and on, but I will stop here.

Worry 

Worry is interest paid on trouble before it comes due. - WIlliam Inge

If you have read any of my other posts or know me personally, you know that I am part Mr. Krabs and the other part Piglet. I sometimes scrimp stupidly and worry incessantly about money (and other things). Why would I worry about these putrid pants? I worried about my refund not being issued, not returning them within the return window, the wastefulness of my time and energy, and the environmental impact. I worried that I was worrying about such a trivial thing. (Neuroticism is strong in this one.) I could have avoided this anxiety had I not purchased them in the first place and gone for a walk instead. 

Environmental Costs 

Still, one of my worries is potentially valid. What is the environmental cost of the buy now, ship back culture? According to Earth.org in 2020, shipping and returning products accounted for 37% of greenhouse emissions.  Earth 911 estimated that 5 billion pounds of returned items ended up in the landfill during 2021. Granted, we were deep in the pandemic during this time, but have you noticed fewer Amazon deliveries in your neighborhood since then? Me either. So while my pants are a small drop in this mass exodus of stuff, they are still a drop. Each piece you and I discard becomes an additional piece to the massive problem of stuff. 

Conclusion

This tirade reminds me to pause before I make a purchase. If it is too good to be true, it probably is. And I really don’t need to join the large number of folks who spend nearly $1,500 a month on nonessentials. When I’m not being persuaded by the Sirens of YouTube, I typically wait 48 hours to purchase anything that’s not food-related. (When you need an onion, you need an onion.) For larger purchases, I ponder them for a week to a month. It is specifically those times when I haven’t waited that have gotten me into this spend, return, or trash cycle. Sadly, as I wrote on this topic, I ran out of foundation, so I purchased an all-natural brand for mature skin. Where did I find this makeup? In a random online article written by an influencer. (Will I never learn?) The product costs three times what I normally spend on makeup. The coverage is so-so, but the crux is that I believe I’m allergic to the natural sunscreen component. After two days of trying it out, I can’t bear to wear it because it’s burning my face. Sigh. Let this be a lesson to me (and maybe you). Pause, reflect, ignore the voices earning a commission on this purchase, and go for a walk before hitting buy now.