31 days without Amazon

Streak one complete ✅ Let's unpack, shall we?

I did it. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. 31 whole days without buying anything on Amazon. Can you believe?

As I mentioned in my 3 experiments for 2025 piece, I’m curious in exploring my relationship to consumerism, and Amazon seems like a good starting point for dissecting the ways in which my brain has been rewired to, among other things, buy first and consider alternatives second (do recall the incredible experience I had with Bacitracin).

Notes from a month without Amazon

Throughout January, I jotted down some notes about my shopping needs, desires, and pain points as they related to Amazon, and here’s what I’ll share:

1. I wanted to get my kids some new books. The number of times I’ve read “Go, Dog. Go!” has unfortunately driven me to ask, “Do you like my hat?” to everyone who crosses my path multiple times a day (if you don’t get the reference, you don’t need to). Amazon is an easy first stop for kids books, but there are endless alternatives. I bought a bunch of used books on Thrift Books, which I believe was a clever move. Used is my preference for my own kids’s books because of the inevitable wear, tear, and dog teeth marks the books endure.

   The books have arrived (I think it took 6 days instead of 2, and nothing bad happened) and we are enjoying reading them.

   • Alternate actions: We could easily take books out from the library (and hide them from the dogs), and next time, we will!

2. I needed a birthday gift for a good friend who lives in a different state. I came across a perfect-for-her stationary set from an independent artist in Korea and ordered it right away (and just out of curiosity, I looked: There was nothing close to a dupe on Amazon). Alas, the gift is still in transit (it has been more than 25 days since I placed the order). arrived at the time of this writing, about 28 days after placing the order. Tee hee.

   • Alternate actions: Buy local and ship myself, order from a domestic website, and/or explain the kerfuffle to the friend and laugh a little bit about it.

3. A pal’s baby turned one! I planned to indoctrinate them: “Go, Dog. Go!” and also “Grumpy Monkey,” but this time the books would be new. First, I called my local bookstore to see if they had them in stock. Because they didn’t and I was a bit pressed for time, I ordered them on BookShop.org, a site that raises money for local bookstores.

   • Alternate actions: I wasn’t exactly last minute in my planning for this gift, but I often am. In these instances, buying something in person is probably the move.

4. ACK! My most trusted stain remover was running low. Can you say nightmare? Before resigning myself to a life covered in blueberry ink and tomato sauce and coffee splatters, I went to the product’s website and ordered directly from it. Earth-shattering stuff. I bought a bit more of the stain remover than usual and added a few new-to-me items to meet the $55 free shipping minimum. In fairness, I did need some new bebe shampoo, so it wasn’t a total money suck.

   • Alternate actions: Find a local store that carries it and be more mindful about when I’m running low. Also, be less of a slob.

Additional observations:

Observation 1: Free shipping feels like a right. This is Amazon’s influence, no doubt. In countless instances I’ve doubled up on a product or added an item to my cart for which I wasn’t originally shopping to meet an online store’s minimums. I think this is kinda dangerous. Free shipping is a brilliant marketing tactic that nudges the customer to buy more and spend more time on site.

None of this is a secret. “We'll be looking to see if our current customers order more from us and whether we attract a greater number of new customers,” Amazon’s Jeffy B. wrote in an email when the company first introduced the concept of free shipping in the Middle Ages (2002). This first effort afforded customers free shipping with orders over $49.

Now with Amazon Prime, which is a paid membership for free 2-day shipping (isn’t that…kinda…oxymoronic?) customers want to put their memberships to good use — to feel like they’re earning what they’ve paid for. And Amazon exploits this psychological desire. As Tracey E. Robey wrote in Racked:

Amazon can charge more for Prime stuff because their members want to use their shipping membership. In fact, one study argued that customers who pay a fee to join a membership program like Prime will spend more and like it more than if they enrolled in a free loyalty program. That’s due to commitment-consistency: “consumers who have made a greater commitment to a loyalty program... have more favorable attitudes toward a loyalty program,” according to authors Christy Ashley, Erin A. Gillespie, and Stephanie M. Noble.

Us consumers are…idiots-no-offense? (No, this isn’t our faults, but still.) “When we are more inclined to buy because of a perceived no-cost service, we are wasteful at every step along the supply chain,” Lauren Liebhaber wrote for Tulsa World. (Her story “The rise of free shipping: 8 moments that transformed e-commerce” is a great overview if you want to nerd out a little bit). There’s much more to unpack around the ethics of free shipping and its toll on the environment, but I want to stay in the psychological realm here. As Liebhaber put it:

The very concept of free can lead consumers to make inconsistent or even irrational decisions, as evidenced by behavioral economist Dan Ariely’s free candy experiment. When presented with a choice between a lower quality item that is free, or a higher quality item at a reduced cost—which is potentially the better deal—consumers are far more likely to choose the free item.

We blindly buy into the belief that we’re better off purchasing shittier stuff that costs less. But it’s easy to see how this all breaks down and we end up spending more in the long run —it’s the old boots theory that keeps us in a vicious cycle of buying shittier shit that we need to replace more often, ultimately costing more than the quality product. But throw-away culture means this isn’t really a problem: Who cares if this phone case will crack in a couple of months? By then, I’ll want a different design to spice up my look.

Related:

Observation 2: Buying gifts on Amazon depletes much of the joy that comes from the act of gift-giving. Amazon offers what feels like irresistible convenience: Just add a gift to your cart and direct it to a different address while you also buy all the things on your own shopping list. So easy, and so impersonal.

This has transformed the act of buying gifts into another chore. You can buy a friend a gift at the same time you order bulk paper towels for your home (and hit that free shipping minimum, boyyyy) — and the sparkle of gifting dulls. I do think there is more (subtle) joy in the act of visiting a website (even more, a a physical shop) for the sole purpose of gifting. Nothing for me or my household’s needs. Just something special for someone special.

It’s convenience culture at it’s finest: Amazon is easy (the word is frictionless, Kate), but not challenging or fun. When everything we do as a society is convenient, what do we do for the sake of joy?

OK… have I lost the plot a bit? Maybe. There’s so much more to discuss — like the actual impact quitting Amazon can have on the company/our individual psyches (and what it cannot achieve), and I’ll plan to look into that for a future newsletter. Do let me know your thoughts on all of this and whatever else in the comments.

Here’s to another month of finding my way through life without Amazon — please wish me well, or don’t. I don’t care. (I do a little.)

P.S.

Dana Miranda, CEPF

’s wrote a great piece about *not* boycotting Amazon if you don’t want to. If you’re feeling guilty for Priming it up, read it here.

P.P.S. Do you like my hat?

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