The Watch I Didn’t Buy: A Better Use of Time

Illustration created using AI

Last night, I almost bought another watch. You know how it goes, you’re tired, scrolling through listings, half-convinced that adding one more to the collection will somehow make you more fulfilled, interesting, or at least tickle my ADHD brain enough for a drop of that sweet sweet dopamine. I had it all rationalized. The price was fair. It had a dial that was a color not currently in my collection. It was basically calling my name.

And then, in the midst of my little luxury trance, I saw a headline pop up in my notifications about the ongoing government shutdown and how millions of Americans are losing access to their SNAP benefits.

For anyone unfamiliar, SNAP stands for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. It’s what helps low-income individuals and families put food on the table. It’s the thing that ensures parents can buy groceries for their kids, seniors can eat three meals a day, and people who are already struggling don’t have to choose between dinner and rent. When those benefits get cut off, it’s not just numbers on a screen; it’s real people going hungry.

So I closed the watch tab and went to Feeding America instead. I donated the exact amount I was about to spend on that watch. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme, but it was something.

Photo by Chris Antzoulis - My first apartment in Queens was the window blocked by the hedges underneath that little outdoor deck, and it cost way more money than anyone should’ve ever charged.

And here’s the thing: I’m not telling you this to look virtuous. Believe me, I was about ten seconds away from buying that watch. I had the shipping info autofilled. I had the dopamine ready. But in that moment, it just hit me that this was money I was perfectly willing to drop on myself, on something I definitely don’t need. And yet some people need basic things I take for granted.

It’s a funny thing, debating the merits of a glossy lacquered dial versus a matte one while someone else is wondering how to stretch a can of food for lunch and dinner. That contrast shouldn’t exist, but it does. And while I can’t fix it, I can at least acknowledge it and do something, however small, to tip the scale in the right direction.

I remember those first few years after college and grad school, living in a basement apartment in Queens. My rent took most of my paycheck, and health insurance was more of a wish than a reality. When I got sick, I’d tough it out, hoping it wasn’t serious, because I couldn’t afford the doctor’s bill. It was years before I saw a doctor again. Not because I was healthy, but because I was scared. Scared of the cost. Scared of getting a prescription I couldn’t pay for.

It wasn’t until I landed a job with good benefits that I stopped being afraid to take care of myself. Now, it costs me little to nothing to see a doctor. That still feels strange to admit. Because it shouldn’t feel like a privilege to stay healthy, just like it shouldn’t feel like a privilege to eat. People should never be put in a financial burden because of health or hunger. Period.

This decision came on top of the hours I’ve spent in doctors' offices this week already, due to an outbreak of shingles on a third of my face. Between an urgent care visit, an emergency ophthalmologist visit to make sure my eye wasn’t infected (it wasn’t), and three prescription medications (including steroids, antivirals, and antibacterial eye ointment), I should be fine in a week or so, for less than $50 total.  But it was only a few years ago that it would’ve cost me so much more than that. Now I’m comfortable enough to afford the occasional luxury, but more importantly, fortunate to be able to afford to be healthy and nourished. 

Watches are luxuries. Beautiful, meaningful, expertly crafted luxuries, but luxuries nonetheless. And if you’re in a position where you can drop a few hundred (or thousand) dollars on something that tells time slightly differently than the one you already own, then you’re also in a position to redirect some of that energy, financial or otherwise, toward something that helps someone else.

Photo provided by Möels + Co.

This isn’t about guilt-tripping anyone. Collecting brings joy. It connects us to design, craftsmanship, history, and allows us to express ourselves in a fun way. But every now and then, it’s worth remembering the difference between what we want and what others truly need. Maybe that means skipping a purchase and donating instead. Maybe it’s volunteering for a weekend. Maybe it’s voting for people who believe that your government should actually care for its citizens.

Whatever it looks like for you, it matters.

I didn’t get the watch last night. But I did get a reminder that generosity isn’t about how much you give, it’s about realizing that you can. And honestly, that felt pretty good. Like winding your moral compass a few turns tighter.

It’s a cliché, but time is the only luxury we can’t buy more of. What we can do is look out for each other, by giving when we’re able, and by remembering that the truest measure of value isn’t what’s on our wrists, but what we choose to do with the time we have. 

Photo by Chris Antzoulis

REMEMBER, nerds…. to keep the comments clean. Please don’t make me pull out ole Abraham-Louis here.