If you have boxes of objects you might barely care about, your recreational time is already spoken for, your finances are secure, and you don’t need more disposable income – for what? if not investments, then you’re just wasting it – then aren’t those objects just wasting physical and mental space? If so, it’s challenging to borrow that recreational time to do something with all those disposable objects. What will you gain from waiting to sell them?
I think it’s out of societal greed that we’re after showing off profit margins.
The more money we earn for the less effort we put in, the better our lives will be, right? If writing over these past three years has taught me anything, it’s that any money over the necessary amount for living comfortably is just a nice to have, not a better life. I can afford rent, utilities, car insurance, gas, website fees, groceries, and I have enough left over for concerts or anything else. I could buy the nicest rowing machine on the market, take an expensive trip somewhere, and still have enough, but that’s not what that money is for, exactly. It’s for the downside of the American dream: our freedoms enable us to live lives where we are one tweak away from losing it all. Car accident, natural disaster; anything.
Why bother wasting time selling stuff?
My pragmatic answer to that is that I am donating anything worth less than $10. If we assume minimum wage in my area is $15, and we assume on my off hours, my time is worth double that to me, if I can’t make $30 for the effort of preparing an object or objects to sell, then it’s a waste of my time and actually is a net negative for my overall income. I have a daily burn-rate chart calculating how much I lose per day I don’t earn a cent, and currently, I can have more than two of those in a row without a net loss each paycheck.
Maybe that means I’m rich?
If that’s the case, I want to continue downsizing the chances of financial risk through the aforementioned life-ruiners. I believe we can all do that. It’s a matter of deciding to prioritize our comforts. Short-term comfort involves wasting time or money superfluously. Long-term comfort involves sacrificing trivialities. I’d love to travel the world and live a life of structural leisure, where I can decide how I want to spend my day or week fully autonomously. To get there, I have to figure out how to become that sort of financially independent individual, which for me involves writing. I believe in my writing so much that I will invest another ten years of daily effort to get there because that involves me downsizing anything that won’t help me achieve my goals. Buying junk at thrift stores won’t help me wake up with full autonomy. Instead, it will only placate my indentured reality.
I’ll sell products I believe in. Everything else gets donated quickly.
|Sources: My personal and professional experiences.|
|Inspirations: There’s a rule of thumb when selling things through the classifieds: don’t be in a rush to sell things. Say you’re selling an object for $10. If you’re in a rush, you might accept $5 and certainly would accept $8, and people know that, so they’ll talk you down like this: “$10.” “$5?” “$9.” “$7.50?” “$8.” “Sold.” This sort of negotiation isn’t really useful for writing outside of case studies, so it doesn’t really interest me to practice it professionally; privately is acquiesable.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Photo: A double entendre advertisement for a company that was selling a large amount of their surplus stock. “When was the last time you had one of these?”|
|Written On: July 14th [22 minutes, mobile]|
|Last Edited: July 18th [The first paragraph was under my normal 75-word count. This happens sometimes with my mobile application, where it doesn’t seem to count 100% correctly. The edits I made improved the question. Otherwise, the rest of the essay is a first draft; final draft for the Internet kinda thing.]|