Who Buys Something Like That?

The question always comes up. In every conversation about that time. It comes with a slight smile or open disbelief: who buys something like that?

The answer is less funny than the question.

Athletes bought it. Professionals who train every day, whose body is their only currency, and who will try anything for one more percent of stability. They wore the bracelet and said: I feel it. And they felt it. Whether that came from the silicone or from their head didn’t matter to them. Performance was what counted.

Executives bought it. People who function sixteen hours a day and are so drained by evening that they’re open to any help. A bracelet that promises to improve your balance? Why not. It costs less than an hour of coaching. And if it helps even one percent, it’s paid for itself.

Homemakers bought it. Mothers who get up at six in the morning and fall into bed at eleven at night and keep everything running in between. They had no time for yoga and no energy for fitness. A bracelet you can wear without having to do anything? Perfect.

And then the people where it got serious. People with chronic pain. With conditions where conventional medicine had no answer. They didn’t buy out of gullibility. They bought out of hope. Because they had tried everything and this little thing on their wrist was maybe, maybe, the last thing that might help.

I wished for nothing more than for it to work. Really work. That the effect came from the product and not just from belief. Because I saw the faces of these people. Because I heard their stories. Because I didn’t want to be the one selling them something that doesn’t deliver.

The feedback was phenomenal. Thousands said: it helps. It works. I feel better. Scientifically, there was no evidence. But humanly, there were mountains of it.

Who are these people? The question has an undertone that bothers me. As if gullibility were a character flaw. As if you’d have to be a bit stupid to buy something like that.

Is an entire population weak? Does everyone need more energy? Does everyone feel that way? The answer is uncomfortable because it’s simple: yes. Most people are tired. Most are overwhelmed. Most have too little of what they need and too much of what they don’t. And when someone comes along and says, here, this helps, the threshold is low. Not because people are stupid. But because they are exhausted.

Exhausted people make different decisions than rested ones. That’s not a moral weakness, that’s biology. When you’re tired, you reach for what’s easy. When you’re overwhelmed, you stop checking. When you’ve been in pain for months, you’ll buy anything that promises relief. That’s not stupidity. That’s being human under pressure.

Placebo works. That’s a scientific fact. People feel less pain when they believe they’ve taken a medication. They run better when they believe they’re wearing professional shoes. They feel stronger when they believe they have an aid. Belief changes perception. Perception changes the experience. The experience is real.

The buyers weren’t the weak link. They were proof of how big the hunger is. For a simple solution. For something you can wear and that helps. For something that isn’t complicated, isn’t expensive, isn’t exhausting.

I served that hunger. I saw the hunger and I fed it. And I’m not saying that was fine. I’m only saying that the question “Who buys something like that?” is the wrong question. The right question would be: why are so many people so tired that a silicone bracelet looks like rescue?

I don’t have an answer to that. But the question won’t let me go.