There’s a simple, and frankly, heretical idea that’s been rolling around in my head lately. It goes completely against my day job, which is ironic, but here it is: I’ve stopped buying anything I see advertised.
No, really. If a product pops up on my screen, or a jingle gets stuck in my head, or a fancy celebrity tries to sell me something… I’m out. I’m not buying it.
I was listening to this podcast the other day, the minimalist guys, and one of them said it so plainly it just hit me like a bucket of cold water. He said he has a personal rule: he doesn’t buy any product he has seen an advertisement for. At first, you think, “that’s a bit extreme, no?” But then you realize, it’s not extreme at all. It’s just true.
Think about it. Why do you need to advertise? If your product is so good, so revolutionary, so essential, it should sell itself. It should reach people the way a delicious biryani smell reaches the entire colony on a Sunday afternoon. You don’t need a billboard to tell people to follow their nose, do you?
It’s like that old saying: “When the student is ready, the master appears.” The same logic applies to things. If I genuinely need a new phone because my current one has decided to retire itself, I will start my search. I will ask friends, check reviews, and maybe even ask ChatGPT for a bespoke recommendation based on my specific needs. The phone I need will find me. It won’t need to ambush me in the middle of a YouTube video with a 5-second, unskippable ad.
And don’t even get me started on sales. “Limited-time offer! 50% off!” Please. Nobody is giving you a discount out of the goodness of their heart. They’re still making a profit. That “sale” is just a magic trick to make you feel like you’ve won something when all you’ve done is empty your wallet for something you never needed in the first place. You’re not getting a deal, you’re becoming a statistic.
I have a line saved as my phone wallpaper. It’s a simple reminder, but it works: “If you already have it, you don’t need it.” It’s a slap on the wrist every time I scroll past a new, shiny thing. It applies to my collection of watches, my multiple duplicate fountain pens, and the twenty different kinds of chai I impulsively bought because they promised to change my life. (Spoiler alert: they didn’t. Maggi still does it better.)
And let’s be practical. The cost of that slick, high-production ad with the film star? That money isn’t coming out of thin air. It’s coming from their profit margin, which means they’re either willing to take a hit (unlikely) or, more probably, they’re just going to make you, the consumer, pay for it. The cost of the ad is baked right into the price tag you’re so happily paying. It’s a rigged game.
So, my new rule is simple and unshakeable. If I see an ad for it, I’m not buying it. My life, my wallet, and my sanity are better off because of it.
The things that are meant for you will always find a way to you—no sales pitch required.
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