Being the gullible fool that I am, I believed in the promises that these brands made to me; that I would be more attractive, more successful, more happy for buying their stuff. However, the highs of consumerism have been accompanied by a continual, dull ache, growing slowly as the years have gone by; a melancholy that until recently I could not understand.

I now realise that it's these damn brands that are the source of the pain. For every new status symbol I acquire, for every new extension to my identity that I buy, I lose a piece of myself to the brands. I placed my trust, even some love with these companies, and what have I had in return for my loyalty and my faith? Absolutely nothing. How could they, they're just brands.

So why is this a topic of the JobSchmob blog? Because it's got a lot to do with why we work.

Some possible responses to this statement could be: "Excuse me, but I work to feed my kids!" or "Speak for yourself, I work just to pay my rent!". But even if you are just getting by, it is extremely rare to find the person who is happy with very little. Even the poorest of people in this country long for the well known brands of items. If a windfall came in, I'd be willing to bet my sweet Adidas that a purchase involving a major brand name would be in the near future.

Because it's true. We believe the promises these brands make to us. We believe we will be happier in some way, more successful, more beautiful, more socially accepted or even more envied. And even if we can't afford to grasp those high end brands, we buy the next best thing or the imitations.

And spending cash on these brands sucks us into the vicious circle of having to work hard to pay for them. We go to jobs that we hate just so we can pay for the things that we buy to soothe our souls from working at that job we hate. I have a friend who drives a fancy car, lives in an expensive house and spends money on expensive purses. This same friend despises her job and is under intense stress from it. Yet, when I tell her to quit, she says she cannot afford to and that she has gotten used to the money. A slave to it, is more like it. She would rather sacrifice her life and her health in exchange for goods that will do little more than offer up false hopes and promises. In effect, they only contribute to her overwhelming sense of emptiness and depression because they don't deliver what she expects them to. And she doesn't see it.

I realize that you do get what you pay for up to a certain point. And I'm not talking about spending your money wisely and investing in tires that will last a long time or a warm winter coat that will last you years. I'm talking about that little horse embroidered on a shirt, the blue and white checkered symbol on the back of a car, the swoosh on the side of a shoe and the green and white logo on the side of your morning coffee.