The first games console I ever sold was a Playstation 3.
Aged 17, in a wanton eleventh-hour bid to fund a maiden-festival ticket purchase I could ill-afford, I panicked and flogged my flagship Christmas present from a year previous.
I was a feckless adolescent entrepreneur: rather than take my dad up on his offer of good money for hard labour or showing up to work my shifts at New Look, where I’d recently been employed and formally disciplined multiple times, I sold an expensive gift that I didn’t want to sell for £150.
I will add, though this may go without saying, that I duly squandered the proceeds on a weekend of underage binge drinking. Accordingly, the plea of a poor and prodigal son to his father went unheeded, which should certainly go without saying.
It’s been five years and the more things change… the more they stay the same.
The fellow to whom I’ve just sold an Xbox One was perplexed by my sale history. Seeking assurance he wasn’t being sold a pig in a poke, he asked me to prove its good condition and give my reason for selling. I duly demonstrated its perfect working order but, despite the informality of a non-sanctioned ‘Guernsey eBuy’ sale, felt confined by the tight schedule to which British people keep with politely awkward small talk, so I fibbed and told him I was selling “to help make ends meet.” And that it was the seventh console I’ve sold for this reason.
It certainly got me thinking. But to justify the man my selling seven games consoles in five years would have turned the transaction in to psychotherapy; I spared him and will enlighten you.
I buy games consoles in a vain attempt to claw back the innocent satisfaction and fulfilment I could once enjoy: slumped on my bed, high as the proverbial kite and barely breaking even on my kill/death ratio playing ‘Call of Duty: World at War.’
My determination to retain and regain my youth doesn’t quite prevent the maturing adult inside of me regretting the purchases and selling them. This most recent sale was a calculated decision to free up my time for more productive recreations I’ve not yet pursued; in fact, it’s the reason you’re reading this article. It’s the same reason I started volunteering, swimming, cooking and yoga, even!
My trade in consoles is a manifestation of the inner conflict that rages between an adult struggling to make something of himself and the vestiges of a teenage soul scrambling to enjoy the last of his ‘freedom;’ the more I look at what’s in place of the controller – the outdoors, a few bob toward another festival ticket, discovering a new hobby – I look back less and less.
I think this will be the last console I sell. Well, at least until Star Wars Battlefront is released anyway.