COMMUNICATION INSTEAD OF MANIPULATION

The world has never been so convenient—and so dangerous for our wallets. Today, it seems we are overpaying due to inflation and the food crisis, but reality is more complex. We overpay because we live in an era where marketing has become not just the art of persuasion, but a whole system of psychological influence. It works quietly, skilfully, imperceptibly, until a person realises they have once again bought not a product, but a beautiful illusion.

Today, as the food crisis is felt even in countries with stable economies, pressure on the wallet is intensifying not only from real market difficulties but also from cunning marketing strategies. Companies—from detergent manufacturers to cosmetic brands and popular bloggers—exploit fear, confusion, and the pressure of trends. Therefore, the main question is not "why is everything so expensive?" but "how not to overpay while remaining a rational consumer?"

Let's start with the simple

Marketing is not always the enemy. It is merely the language business uses to talk to the customer. The question is where ordinary communication ends and manipulation begins. Take, for example, the popular idea of "separate" laundry detergents. Detergent for whites, for colours, for blacks, for delicate fabrics—the market has done everything to make us believe that without a separate box for each type of clothing, our laundry is doomed. In reality, the difference between many such products is minimal: a slightly altered formula, an added optical brightener or its absence, and new packaging that instils a sense of necessity. It benefits the manufacturer to expand the range, because the greater the perceived difference, the higher the chance the customer will take "everything at once." The same thing happens with food products emblazoned with bright letters like "diet," "eco," "bio," "fitness"—though inside the composition may be the same, only twice as expensive. Expensive "organic" or "farm" products are often just a more expensive way of selling the same thing. One merely needs to study the ingredients. And if the main ingredients match, and the price difference is due only to the brand or pretty packaging, that is a marketing ploy. Moreover, buying products at seasonal markets often proves both more cost-effective and healthier than the most expensive supermarket offerings.

Conscious freedom

Marketing is especially powerful where emotions are at work. Cosmetology and the wellness industry are precisely these areas. Here, science coexists with promises of eternal youth, and the real effects of products dissolve in a glittering stream of advertising terms. "Detox," "cellular-level rejuvenation," "activation of youth genes," "deep nourishment"—it sounds convincing but rarely has proof. Many expensive creams are fundamentally no different from those that cost five times less: the concentration of active ingredients is the same, only the packaging and marketing budget differ. Real efficacy is proven only for a narrow spectrum of ingredients, such as retinoids or stable forms of vitamin C. Everything else, including "collagen," which is incapable of penetrating the deep layers of skin, is typically just pretty words invented to justify a high price.

Bloggers, especially in the health sphere, add fuel to the fire: they become the new sales agents, only they speak more softly, more intimately, and more emotionally. Their "my morning must-have products" column creates the illusion that without the dietary supplements they advertise for $80, the body "somehow doesn't function properly." But the body is structured differently, and most people do not need a whole shelf of jars to be healthy. "Gurus" and "wellness bloggers" often sell obvious truths (drink water, sleep, exercise) under the guise of exclusive courses and apps. Real self-improvement is about discipline and consistency, not a one-off purchase. Marketing offers instant relief from pain, but reality requires effort. And before trusting a cosmetologist or blogger demanding you buy a specific product or app of obviousness, it's better to search for the results of scientific research, not advertising slogans.

Life shows: you cannot completely switch off marketing, but you can switch off automatic trust. In reality, only what can be verified by logic and experience works. If a product promises "instant rejuvenation," it's worth asking: can skin physiologically renew itself overnight? If a cereal packet says "premium," it's enough to turn it over and read the composition: often it's no different from the ordinary one. And if a blogger assures that their new vitamin scheme works wonders, it's better to look at official medical recommendations—most often they are far more modest.

Led by emotions

But there is a phenomenon even more dangerous than marketing on supermarket shelves or in cosmetic boutiques. These are the digital traps hidden in apps that promise to improve our lives. Today, it's enough to enter a social network to be surrounded by "promising programmes": diaries for fighting procrastination, apps for discipline, meditation, concentration. They speak with precise words, as if reading your thoughts. In reality, they are reading algorithms. They say the right words, name our weaknesses, promise relief from anxiety and stress. This is no accident: algorithms analyse behaviour, select precise formulations, and create the feeling that the offer is addressed personally to us.

It is in such situations that the most sophisticated schemes are born. You buy a "daily diary" that is supposed to help with what seems like a simple human habit—organising your life. The website flashes "discount only today," time is running out, and the brain reacts faster than rationality. You click "buy," thinking you are acquiring a tool. But in fact, you are buying a ticket into a trap. The classic scheme of hidden subscriptions. The app sells one thing for $10 but charges for another: additional services, a virtual mentor no one asked for or ever saw, subscriptions that are not indicated anywhere—for a tidy sum. And this is not a mistake. It is a carefully designed system. And when a person tries to get their money back, they are forced to "prove" the uselessness of a service they never even intended to use. They are asked to show results, send some reports, and while the buyer tries to explain the obvious—time passes. Support disappears. The money—too.

Such services are based on emotional marketing. It doesn't sell a product—it sells hope. It promises a new life, new discipline, a new character. A person buys not a diary, but the dream of becoming better. And in that moment, they become vulnerable.

The same happens in the sphere of dietary supplements advertised by bloggers—part of the global market of illusions. The internet is overflowing with promises of easy solutions, and the harder life is, the easier it is to fall for them.

Fast does not mean cheap

But the main thing here is different: all these schemes rely on haste. On the fact that a person has no time to read the fine print, study the return conditions, close the window and think. Marketing wins where a person wants to believe. But as soon as trust is replaced by attentiveness, the deception begins to crumble.

To stop falling into such traps, one needs to reclaim a simple tool—the pause. Not an instant "buy now," but a short internal "wait." If an offer is too urgent—it's most likely manipulation. If an app promises to change your life—that's advertising, not therapy. If a service doesn't show the subscription terms—it means it's hiding something important.

In an era where money loses value faster than we can get used to it, mindfulness becomes not just a useful quality, but a means of protection. And when a person starts making decisions not out of fear of missing out, but from a calm understanding of their own needs, the stream of marketing tricks loses its power.

We can stop paying for what has no value. And in this, there is an inner freedom: not to be deceived, not to buy emptiness, not to allow digital platforms to turn trust into profit. In a world where gold is expensive, critical thinking is even more valuable—but it always pays off.

According to psychologist Afag Babazade, such situations happen precisely because of an emotional impulse: the decision is made in a moment of anxiety, fatigue, or a feeling of personal ineffectiveness.

Afag-khanim advises a simple strategy—to reflect before buying: give yourself an hour or a day, ask whether it is truly necessary or just an emotional reaction. Such a step helps regain control and not allow manipulators to manage your money. It's important to remember: a person who falls into a digital trap should not blame themselves—it is much more useful to use the experience to train conscious choice.

Aids to choice

At the same time, digital tools can be true allies if used consciously. Apps for tracking income and expenses help visualise one's financial flows, plan a budget, and discipline oneself, but only with regular use. Built-in functions allow for tracking spending, understanding where the money goes, and forecasting a budget, not just keeping records. Thus, tools like YNAB, PocketGuard, Monefy, or MoneyWiz do not promise instant magic—they give a person an opportunity to see what is really happening and build a plan based on reality.

The main idea remains: marketing and digital traps will not disappear, but one can learn to distinguish between illusions and real tools. Mindfulness and the habit of pausing before an impulsive purchase become the new currency, more important than any discounts or sales. A person who can listen to themselves and check their actions is protected. And it is this ability—the true defence against deception and a way to maintain control over life and finances.

To avoid overpaying, it is important to reclaim a simple sense of critical thinking. It does not require superior knowledge—it is enough to learn to ask oneself the right questions. Why is the price higher? What am I really paying for? Is there scientific data confirming the effect? What does an independent source, unrelated to sales, say? Marketing relies on people not having time to think. But once you engage your reason—half of the "hits of the year" cease to look like necessities. And now, as money loses stability, mindfulness helps regain a sense of control. A person begins to choose not because they were told to, but because it is truly needed. In this, there is a special freedom. We don't necessarily have to fight marketing—it is enough to simply stop automatically believing it. And then it turns out that you can save not only on sales and discounts, but on the most important thing—on refusing to buy illusions.