‘A lightweight camping mug, well I do have one already, but this one is insulated.’
‘A climbing knife, for cutting rope. I don’t have one of those. Quite cheap too.’
‘A woman’s ultralight, breathable running jacket. Well, my jacket is starting to lose its waterproofing.’
‘Spray-on waterproofing… I think I’d rather just have a new coat.’
This is how I now spend several hours a day. I currently have a part-time job at an outdoor shop uploading products onto their website, and I’m starting to understand how these types of stores can be so lucrative.
There is something about the outdoor industry that entices you to buy more. There is always something lighter, warmer, faster (yes, companies often describe their produces with verbs) available that is just a bit better than the thing you bought last week.
I’m currently sat in a financially dangerous place. Firstly, I’m quite suggestive, meaning that it doesn’t take a great deal to convince me of something. Personally, like to reframe it as, ‘seeing the good in people’ – because, why would someone lie? Unfortunately, most people would generally call it gullible, which used to be the standard term until sometime in the mid-nineties when it was revised to something less derogatory.
Secondly, part of the job is listing out all the reasons why a particular product is so good. So I’m sat there uploading details of an essential, don’t leave home without, game-changing, sexy pack of tent pegs, wondering how many I could buy with this week’s pay.
It’s a terrible combination, especially when my impulsiveness is added to the mix. Meaning that in the week since I have worked there, all I have to show for it is two pairs of running shoes (I don’t run), a foam matt for my knees when I’m kneeling around my cooking stove (because the ground can be wet sometimes), a pack of sporks (which in fairness, are awesome) and this blog.
I don’t understand how starting a new job has resulted in me having less money.