How an auction became the ultimate test for this reformed spender.
There I was in an apartment waiting for the auction to commence. 30 couples and five singles all huddled together waiting for that man with the big voice to open proceeding. The auctioneer.
What a crazy way to purchase your biggest asset! It is a combination of trickery, FOMO, theatre and greed. All wrapped into a stressful sandwich.
When I was a spender I would have been seduced into the bidding process.
The reserve passed by after the first bid. My hand went up as second bidder. Butterflies and Spenditude roaring in my head. I’ve got this I said to myself.
Fast forward five minutes later and my cap has been exceeded. Due in some part to me bidding against this straight faced lady who looked like an accountant buying her tenth property (bias alert).
So here I was in over-spend mode.
“It surely can’t go much higher.”
“Just overbid in small amounts.”
“It is slowing down.”
“The place is perfect at the right price.”
“So what if I overspend. I can make it up.”
Auctioneer man targeting me. It is NOT yours sir but it could be !!! Bloody hell. Pressure.
As a spender I would have said. F**k it. I will secure this place and worry about the consequences later. My spender was on high alert.
It was only just over my cap. (I set a cap before I went in – knowing that if I get excited that cap may not mean anything)…
…and it is up to you sir. Booming voice. Looking at me.
He looked so friendly and really had my back. NOT.
Decision time. Straight faced accountant lady and I are the underbidders, we are in a war of eye contact.
The nice looking couple in the corner looked set on getting the place. They want it as much as I do.
Going once.
Sir. It can be yours tonight.
Going twice.
You are so close sir.
Final time. You will be back looking tomorrow sir. This place is clearly what you want.
Straight faced lady looked like she was out.
The gavel (or his piece of paper that acted as a gavel) was about to fall.
Final time.
Oh sh*t. Spenditude. Save me.
And then it became clear. A defender would have a cap, an upper limit, and not move. Remove emotion. Walk away.
Boom.
Sold to the ……..
What do you think. Did I cave in? Or did the couple get their little piece of heaven.
Or did that bloody accountant win?
The moral to this story is restraint.
Years ago I would have been the proud owner of an overpriced property.
Tonight I am a Defender. I am not one every day but today I am.
I feel ok. A hug would be appreciated though.
This post was written by Paul Gordon, co-author of bestselling book, Spenditude. It was originally published at spenditude.com.
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