iPhone 15 Pro Max vs. Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra: Leasing vs. Buying – What I Found After Living With Both (And Which One I Actually Kept!)
Alright, listen up, because I’ve just wrapped up an experiment that’s been nagging at me for ages, and I’ve got some strong opinions to share. You know how everyone always debates whether it’s better to lease a new smartphone or just buy it outright? Well, I decided to stop wondering and actually do it. For the past year, I leased an iPhone 15 Pro Max. And before that, for two solid years, I owned a Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra, bought right out of pocket. It was a proper, real-world, no-holds-barred comparison, and let me tell you, I learned a lot. Here’s my honest take on which approach truly won my heart, and more importantly, my wallet.
My journey began with the Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. I’d been a buyer for as long as I could remember. There’s just something inherently satisfying about plunking down a chunk of change, walking out of the store, and knowing that device, sitting warm in your pocket, is unequivocally yours. I remember the day I bought the S24 Ultra. It was a hefty sum – over $1300, I think, and my credit card definitely felt the burn. But after that initial sting, it was pure, unadulterated freedom. No monthly device payments, just my regular carrier bill. It felt like shedding a financial weight every single month. I treated that S24 Ultra like a newborn baby for the first few weeks, carefully placing it on soft surfaces, wiping it down constantly. But then, as it always does, life happened. It slid off my nightstand once, landing with a sickening thud. A tiny scuff appeared on the top right corner of the frame. My heart sank, but then a weird calm washed over me. It was my scuff. It was a battle scar on my phone. I didn’t have to worry about some corporate entity charging me for "excessive wear and tear" down the line. That phone became an extension of me, complete with its minor imperfections.
I kept that S24 Ultra for a full two years. In smartphone years, that’s practically a lifetime, right? It was a beast of a phone, handled everything I threw at it – endless social media scrolling, demanding games, video editing on the go, navigating unfamiliar cities. By the end of its second year, the battery wasn’t quite what it used to be, needing a top-up mid-afternoon if I was particularly heavy on it, but the performance was still snappy. I had really gotten my money’s worth. When I finally decided it was time to upgrade, I went through the whole song and dance of factory resetting it, cleaning it meticulously, and then listing it on Swappa. The process was a bit of a pain, taking photos, writing a detailed description, dealing with questions from potential buyers. But when I finally sold it for a respectable $550, that cash in hand felt like a bonus, a tangible return on my investment. It wasn’t the full $1300, obviously, but it was real money back in my pocket that I could put towards my next phone. The feeling of recouping some of that initial cost was incredibly empowering.
Then came the dark side: the lease. I decided to try out Apple’s upgrade program, which is essentially a lease. I walked into the store, feeling a bit like a secret agent embarking on a mission. "I want to lease the iPhone 15 Pro Max," I declared, trying to sound confident. The appeal was undeniable: shiny new phone, minimal upfront cost (just the sales tax on the full price, which still stung a bit), and the promise of an "easy" upgrade every year. It felt like I was bypassing the financial commitment, getting the latest tech without the sticker shock. The monthly payment was significantly lower than if I were paying off the phone on an installment plan, and that felt good initially. I walked out with the gorgeous iPhone 15 Pro Max, feeling all futuristic and light.
But that lightness quickly turned into a subtle, constant anxiety. This phone wasn’t mine. It was on loan. Every time I set it down a little too hard, or heard that dreaded thwack against a tabletop, my stomach did a little flip. The first time I dropped it – a stupid, fumbling moment getting out of the car – and saw a tiny, almost invisible scratch near the charging port, I nearly cried. Not because it ruined my phone, but because I knew, deep down, that tiny scratch would come back to haunt me at the end of the lease. I became hyper-vigilant, almost obsessive. I bought the most robust case I could find, even though I usually prefer slim cases. I even bought a screen protector, something I rarely bother with. This phone felt less like a tool for living and more like a delicate, expensive rental car that I had to return in pristine condition or face a penalty. My personal quirks really came out here – I started putting the phone in a separate pocket, away from my keys, and I never, ever let anyone else handle it without a stern warning.
The supposed "ease" of the upgrade program also turned out to be a bit of a mirage. When it was time to upgrade to the next model after my year was up, I went back to the Apple Store, expecting a seamless swap. What I got was a thorough, almost forensic examination of my iPhone 15 Pro Max. The representative, armed with a tiny flashlight, scrutinized every millimeter of the device. That almost invisible scratch near the charging port? "Wear and tear beyond normal," she said, stone-faced. The microscopic dent on the corner of the frame? "Significant damage." I argued, I pleaded, I even pointed out that my case covered most of it. But rules are rules. I was hit with a $150 "damage fee" just to complete the upgrade. A hundred and fifty bucks! For what felt like normal use. It felt like a trap. I had paid my monthly fee religiously, treated the phone with kid gloves (by my standards!), and still got dinged. It immediately negated the "savings" I thought I was getting from the lower monthly payments.
That moment was the breaking point for me. The idea of constantly chasing the latest model, always being on the hook for potential fees, and never truly owning the device just grated on my soul. I realized I hated that feeling of not having equity in my device. With my S24 Ultra, even if it depreciated, it was my depreciation. I controlled the sale, I got the cash. With the leased iPhone, I was just renting, and at the end, I had nothing to show for it but a lighter wallet and the memory of constant anxiety.
Financially, it boils down to this: leasing felt like a never-ending subscription. You always have a payment, and you never build equity. It’s great if you absolutely must have the latest model every single year and don’t care about ownership or resale value, but the hidden fees and strict return policies can quickly eat into any perceived savings. Buying, on the other hand, is a big upfront hit, but then the payments stop. And crucially, you own an asset. Yes, it depreciates, but you have the power to sell it when you’re ready, recouping some of your initial investment. That freedom to choose when to upgrade, and to actually profit (even a little) from your old device, is incredibly liberating.
My personal preference, after this little experiment, is firmly with buying. I’ve gone back to owning my phones. The peace of mind that comes with knowing the phone in my hand is truly mine, that its dings and scratches are part of its story, not a potential fine, is invaluable. I don’t mind keeping a phone for two or even three years if it’s still performing well. The marginal upgrades year over year rarely justify the constant churn and the lack of ownership that comes with leasing. My real-world experience taught me that the freedom of ownership, even with the initial financial pinch, far outweighs the perceived convenience and lower monthly payments of leasing. So, yeah, I’m a buyer, through and through. The Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra, with its solid performance and my ability to sell it on my terms, solidified that choice. Never again will I feel like I’m just borrowing my most essential personal device.
