"There is nothing in the world that some man cannot make a little worse and sell a little cheaper, and he who considers price only is that man's lawful prey."
- John Ruskin (1819 -1900)
Way back when, my dear old Dad, Frank J., was always looking for a deal.
Must've been the New Yawk/labor negotiator in his blood.
His own father, once a piano refinisher for Steinway, then a foreman in the vegetable/fruit market in NYC, taught him a thing or two about closing a deal.
My old man was always looking for a "bargain." Just his way of getting one over, of winning the price game. A negotiator till the end.
One spring, when I was a teenager, I accompanied Frank J. to the local hardware store where we discovered snow shovels on sale for the unbelievable price of four for $5.
My old man was delighted. "Four for five bucks," he exclaimed. "Sold!"
To me, these shovels looked and felt like a buncha water-logged toothpicks held together with some spit, doubtful of delivering on any snow-removal promise.
"Dad, these are cheap. They're not very good," I said.
"Who cares," he exclaimed. "Look at the price."
Cheapness in all its forms -- financial, emotional, spiritual -- has always confused me. Why go for something cheap, when you can spend your hard-earned dough or time achieving something of quality? Or if it's cheap, why do you want to have it in the first place? It won't last, and it will only disappoint you. I am not one to step foot in the local dollar store. It holds no thrill for me.
Cheap is not the same as less expensive. Like a lot of folks, I shop at Costco. I save a few bucks here and there. But what I try to buy is quality. Dog food that makes the Labbies coats' shine and helps keep 'em healthy, obtainable in bags the size of human beings; and shampoo in a bottle the size of a bucket that I actually use. I've always thought the best way to save money is not to buy stuff you don't need in the first place.
But I can't stand cheap, and that part of people who, every day of their lives, insist on it, even though they can afford quality. It drives me nuts. Some of the wealthiest people I've met in life are the most miserly, stingy, cut-rate of souls. Seeking only and winning what is, in the long run, cheap, is a misplaced form of power, and a lot of people love it. But the process can creep into our hearts and souls, if we are not careful. And you don't even see it coming.
This week, I again witnessed cheapness in all its tarnished glory when I went on the adventure of purchasing new eyeglasses.
The parlor trick pair pictured above sits on my desk, and are guaranteed to give you a headache when you put them on. Known in the fun world as "nerd specs," niece Emma calls 'em "googlie glasses" 'cause they make you look like a total dweeb or dork, whichever title you prefer.
But, for real, it was time for me to order bifocals. Yes, I have put it off for such a long time. Yes, I finally admit that the phone book terrifies me and my arms aren't long enough to help me comprehend what I like to read.
So, armed with a AAA card that promised a 30% discount, it was off to the local eyewear store to submit, finally, that I can no longer see like I use-ta.
While perusing the selection of eyeglasses available for purchase, I was intrigued to find the majority of prospects making spectacles of themselves in the "discount designer frames" section. These "bargain" frames are guaranteed to make one, truly, no joke, look like a dork. Perfectly nice-looking people were trying on and buying frames in jellybean colors like purple and lime green or with lenses the size of postage stamps and finding delight with their reflections in the mirror. They were even more excited they were getting a bargain.
This experience reminded me just how unhip I am, have always been and always will be. What I also discovered is that I would rather spend the money it costs to look simple, 'cause it has been my experience that simple lasts a long time.
Cheap is loud, especially when there is no reason for it. There was a family...mother, father, two teenaged children...in the booth next to me. The eyewear associate, a Frenchman, had his hands full, as the father wanted to "negotiate" price, and made quite a scene for twenty minutes or so, insisting how he could go elsewhere and that the associate should be happy they were in the store and considering the purchase. The Frenchman was smooth, and very politely explained that he could not negotiate price, and that the estimate was the best he could do. The blowhard bargainer gathered his embarrassed family and left the store, claiming he would never again set foot on the premises, and that he would tell all his friends the same. The Frenchman gathered up the tub of eyewear frames they had been sampling, and walked passed me, muttering softly in French. If I had been able to translate, probably would have heard the words "cheap bastard!"
Not settling for cheap takes longer. The new simple bifocaled googlie glasses I ordered will take two weeks to obtain, and that's OK by me, despite the fact my existing frames are glued together, even as we speak. And maybe I could have gotten them for less money elsewhere, but that doesn't bother me. I did not waste a lot of time finding and ordering them, as time is the most precious thing we have.
So my old man did buy those snow shovels. The following winter he proudly scooped up the first shovelful of wet New England snow on the driveway, and a loud crack was heard. Frank J. stood in the cold, holding a stick with a handle.
He looked at me, laughed, and said, "Don't start."
Mare,
How about Dad buying the 4 cans of apricots for $1.00 and no one liked them. The price was right but such a deal that was!
Kathy
Posted by: Kathy Gillen Mankin | December 31, 2005 at 12:25 AM