There’s a syndrome common to people who have just completed rehab, called The Pink Cloud.
It describes the euphoria of fresh sobriety, of knowing you’ve conquered a demon. And often those experiencing it can’t help trying to convince others to join them on their quest, so they might feel similarly incredible.
Hello. My name is Polly and I am an addict.
It has been 37 days since my last Amazon Prime delivery. I have never been more smug.
It’s not just me trying to persuade you to join me in giving up Amazon, campaign groups and small businesses are urging consumers to shun this week’s Prime event (held over some days, sometime. I’m not telling you when because I refuse to be an enabler).
They want us to support small retailers instead, which was obviously important pre-pandemic, and is now essential to the survival of the high street and people’s livelihoods.
Just like the Daily Mirror’s Shop for Britain campaign which urges people to think about where to shop to help businesses across the country in these tough times.
Jeff Bezos, the owner of Amazon, is the world’s richest person, which sounds like lazy hyperbole but is genuinely a fact.
As of September, he had a net worth of $183billion. During the pandemic, while everyone else suffered, he made $67billion between March and September.
He rakes in $2,219 per second. In 2018, he created the Bezos Day One Fund, which has put $2billion into various charitable schemes. That’s just over 1% of his money.
Last year, the ‘big six’ American tech firms were accused of “aggressively avoiding” $100bn of global tax over the past decade in a report by tax transparency campaign group Fair Tax Mark.
The report singled out Amazon as the worst offender.
There have also been countless allegations, rumours and even documentaries, about how badly Amazon treat their staff, which the giant retailer obviously denies.
Turns out there’s only so much you can ignore, even if you’re really lazy and very pleased at being able to buy something with one swipe of a finger, which is then delivered about four minutes later. At what price convenience?
I decided the only way out was cold turkey, even though the idea was unthinkable at first.
I’d pretty much forgotten how to buy stuff, because Amazon sells everything. It was the first place I turned to, no matter what I was after, literally my one stop shop.
It was too easy. When I started off, I had absolutely no faith in myself, the hold Amazon had over me was far too powerful.
I reasoned that even if I only bought half as much from them as usual, that would still count as a win, vaguely, as long as we were going by the rules I had made up a second before.
My point is: if I can do this, anyone can. Because then the strangest thing happened. Not using started to become even more addictive than using. Every day that I managed to get through without crawling back to Amazon made me stronger.
It only took them a few days to notice my absence.
My husband reckons there was a top level crisis meeting, and they were extremely concerned for my welfare.
Targeted emails began arriving, desperate attempts to lure me back which only hardened my resolve. Like a begging ex-boyfriend, the needier they were, the more they turned me off.
At one point they reminded me that I like books and – in case I’d forgotten – they sell books!
What’s more, they had loads of different ones! Pathetic, Jeff.
Breaking my Amazon habit has made me a much better person. Last week a bookshop didn’t have something in stock and had to order it in, so I waited A FULL 24 HOURS.
What I’ve lost in same day delivery I have gained in Sainthood (see: Patience Of A…).
At this point, I’m far too stubborn to go back even if I wanted to.
If the elixir of life was only available on Amazon, I would do without.
Although my husband would argue, I doubt Jeff Bezos will be signing on any time soon as a result of my boycott. But knowing none of the cash in his pocket came from me is worth more than I ever could have guessed.