Once upon a time I bought things because of what I refer to as the ‘Dixons magnet’. Dixons used to be the name of a popular High Street store selling gadgets and gizmos, TVs, radios, computers, iPods, etc., etc. Currys is now the nearest replacement to Dixons, I suppose.
Now, the purchase doesn’t have to be made in Dixons, as I say. It can be from anywhere. However, the ‘Dixons magnet’ works on a man, like a handbag or shoe-shop magnet works on a woman:
When you are within so many metres of the shop you are forced by something remote controlling your legs to go in. Once inside, some other mechanism, probably some sort of subliminal message from the PA system, disconnects your awareness of your bank or credit card balance. Special speech replacements force you to answer the “Can I help you?” with, instead of “No thanks, I’m just looking”, the phrase, “Yes, I wonder if I could have a closer look at xxxxx”.
Once the object is opened up for you to play with on the counter, your guilt mechanism about the fact that they are going to have to put it back in the box or the display, and how they’ve been really kind to you, kicks in. You open your mouth to say, “Thanks” and walk away, but instead, out comes “Can I pay by Credit Card?” and your hand automatically grabs the card from your wallet and throws it over to the assistant, thus meaning you can’t even come to your senses and run out, ‘cos they’ve got your card.
In the early days of technology, the ‘Dixons magnet’ forced me to buy so many things that I didn’t need. They were pointless. They were toys. Wonderful pointless toys.
These days, I find the ‘Dixons magnet’ leads me to things that make my existing lifestyle easier, such is the way that technology has progressed. However, its pull is just as strong.
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