How Takeaway Coffee Makes Us Poor

Disclaimer: this article discusses more than just coffee—in fact, it's not really about coffee at all. The main question is: why do we save nothing despite earning a decent income, and why can't we afford to buy apartments and other expensive things?

Every story needs a hero. Our hero is Petya. He's 27 years old, lives in Yekaterinburg, works as a Senior Backend Developer at a large Moscow company, and earns the notorious "300k per second"—300,000 rubles per month.

What does Petya's typical workday look like? He takes a taxi to work (today there's a promotion—only 500 rubles), stops at his favorite coffee shop along the way, and orders a cold foam latte without caffeine on lactose-free milk. 400 rubles—that's pocket change; he earns that in 15 minutes of work.

He arrives at the office and starts working. Lunchtime comes—he opens a delivery app and orders food with promised delivery in 15 minutes. Spends maybe 1,000 rubles maximum. He deserves it—there's nothing wrong with that. Meanwhile, he checks where to go on weekends or in the evening.

Evening arrives, the workday ends. He leaves the office: it's summer outside, the sun is shining brightly, and he has no need or desire to go home immediately—he wants to take a walk. On the way, he stops at his favorite coffee shop again, this time ordering a bubble tea. 300 rubles—pocket change.

He walks around the city, enjoying the views, but realizes he's getting hungry. He enters a café—a good one, reliable, he goes there often. He orders pasta and a pot of pu-erh tea. The workday was tough—might as well order a hookah too. He sits, relaxes. After an hour, he leaves, closes the tab without even looking at the amount. He calls a taxi—about 700 rubles this time—and happily heads home to his rental apartment.

Relatives and friends often ask: "Why don't you buy your own place? You earn decent money!" But he's tired of hearing it. Obviously—look at the situation in the country, apartments are incredibly expensive!

The taxi arrives. On the way, he stops for beer—grabs his favorite craft beer, just one, maybe two cans maximum. He's not an alcoholic. He finally enters his apartment, walks past a shelf where fancy LEGO sets stand—or maybe Warhammer figurines—sits on the couch, and starts binge-watching his smart TV.

The same thoughts keep surfacing: "Why can't I afford to buy an apartment and am forced to rent? I earn decent money… where does all the money go?"

That's when realization strikes.

The Coffee Overton Window

It all started with takeaway coffee. It seems trivial—why would coffee matter? It only costs 300 rubles—surely I can afford that?

But here lies the main deception. One coffee—300 rubles. If you buy it every morning—maybe it adds up to 6,000 per month. Let's say you grab another drink in the evening—some refreshing beverage. Maybe 12,000. That's not much, right?

But the devil, as always, hides in the details.

At some point, you realize: after work, it's too much effort to go to the store—it's easier to order delivery. The price seems the same anyway! But if you compare carefully, the difference is at least 30 percent. Yes, it might not show on individual items, but anchor products exist for a reason—they hook you first. Then the habit forms. That's it. You're hooked.

Then comes the laziness of cooking. Spend an hour of your life on food? I earn 2,000 during that time. Can't I afford to eat from a café? Besides, it's only 1,500 maximum—or should I stand by the stove?

That's where it begins. Dependence on delivery forms. One purchase—inexpensive. But once it becomes a system, 50,000 to 60,000 rubles quietly disappear monthly—just on food.

Then "it" appears on the horizon—an expensive hobby. It demands strength, time, and money. Let's say 10,000 per month. Seems insignificant, especially with a decent income.

The chain is launched. Spending benefits everyone: Petya pays taxes, supports small, medium, and large businesses. Money circulates in the economy.

Everyone wins.

Except Petya.

The Trap

Petya's situation is best called a trap. He's a hostage to his own and imposed desires. From his 300,000 rubles monthly, at best, only about 50,000 remains—if not less. He still needs to buy clothes, set aside money for vacation, and take weekend trips somewhere.

The economic situation might improve—and perhaps Petya will take out a mortgage. Or perhaps not. Years will pass. And one day he'll look back and regret: how much money went to momentary desires, to needs he didn't actually have.

So what should be done?

The Solution

First, you need to realize: Petya is a victim of marketing. He's being imposed an economic behavioral model that benefits everyone except him. You must accept this. Feel somewhat foolish. Then—start acting.

Why buy takeaway coffee daily? Yes, in his spending scale it's inexpensive, but if you learn to control yourself in small things, it's much easier to approach large expenses consciously.

Start with something simple—just track every expense. Over time, this becomes a habit. Once mindless spending stops, your perspective on money will begin shifting.

I'm not saying you should become a miser, trembling over every kopeck. Impulse purchases will remain—but there will be fewer of them. The key is that your mind undergoes a revaluation of money's worth. Once that happens—life becomes much easier.

Yes, in the current economic situation, Petya might not accumulate enough for an apartment. But things definitely won't get worse if he starts saving at least 30–50 percent of his income and uses it wisely: invest in stocks, put it in interest-bearing accounts, or save intelligently.

Where exactly? I won't say. My takeaway coffee is ready—I'm going to get it.