This is one of my old Gentleman Savant blog posts. I actually had a request to repost this one, so here it is.
“Holy Jesus!” I exclaimed in the Wal-Mart. “This lamp is only five dollars! Why, for that price, I could afford to light up every corner of every room in the house… twice, probably…”
“No, they can’t be that cheap!” my wife asked, and then, upon seeing the lamp’s price tag, “That can’t be right. It doesn’t SEEM right, does it? Maybe it’s a mistake.”
“It’s got to be right. They’re all marked like that. I saw the same damn lamp at Gottschalks for, I think, twenty-five bucks, and here it is for practically nothing.”
“Well, it doesn’t come with a bulb, see? Right there on the box, it says ‘Does not include bulb’. That’s where they get you.” she points out, “That’s where they get you, and then they ‘f’ you. They bend you over and they ‘eff’ you right in the ‘a’.” She’s channeling a self-censoring version of Joe Pesci. Not that she’s got any sort of aversion to swearing in public, I think she just likes to change it up to keep it interesting.
I don’t like to go to the local Wal-Mart because I really believe them to be an evil organization of kitten-eating lizard-people. Sometimes, however, I find myself there, buying something for someone. Like today, for instance. Buying a hot-pink vacuum cleaner. For the wife. And whenever I do find myself there, I am always awestruck by the amazing prices. There is simply nothing more beautiful to me than an incredible deal. Nothing.
“My god, there’s, like, 500 Otter-Pops here for two-dollars and thirty-seven cents! If I ate one Otter-Pop per day, it would take me… one year, four months, and a fortnight to eat all of them! And, look, they’ve got the same characters on them that they did when I was a little bastard: Alexander the Grape, Poncho Punch… Hmmm… They don’t quite seem so clever now that I’m grown up. ‘Sir Isaac Lime’? How is the word ‘Lime’ at all like ‘Newton’? I mean, sure, I get the ‘Little Orphan Orange’ being, obviously, ‘Little Orphan Annie’, but it’s not exactly clever, right…?”
It’s about this time that I realize my wife has left long ago and I’m talking to an elderly Mexican woman who looks confused, but is smiling politely.
“Oh… err.. sorry.” And then I try to explain my jubilation to alleviate the awkwardness. “Otter-Pops for… umm… dos dólares and… uh… treinta siete… err… centavos.”
Well, now. Where did that come from? I’ve picked up a bit more Spanish over the years than I’d thought. I was giving myself a mental pat-on-the-back when she replied to my statement.
“Yes, I know.” she says in perfect English, rolling her eyes. “I can ALSO see the label.”
Oh. My bad, I think, as I drop two boxes (that’s a solid 1,000 packets of sugar-water, mate) into my cart and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
Earlier, at home, I’d had a talk with my wife where I explained the game plan. “We’re going to get in there,” I said, “get the damned pink vacuum cleaner, and then get the hell out before you find something else you can’t live without.”
“Well, what if I want to look around?” she said to me. “I might see something that catches my eye…”
“We can’t afford to just go browsing around, spending money right and left. This is a time to be fiscally prudent. Who knows how bad the economy will get?” I’m making this up as I go along, really. I’m honestly just a cheap bastard, unless it’s a really, really good deal. Then I’m willing to spend ridiculous amounts of money.
“Whatever.” my wife replies flippantly.
Women, I thought to myself on the drive to the Wal-Mart, they’ve just got no willpower when it comes to shopping. I think I may have even shook my head and chuckled at the thought.
The vague memory and realization of it’s evident irony evaporates instantly, though, as I round a corner and nearly run right into an enormous display, nay, a veritable mountain before me, of compact fluorescent lightbulbs for only ninety-three cents each.
“Dear sweet merciful heavens…” I say in hushed reverence.
Upon examining a package sitting near the base of the peak, I learn that the compact fluorescent bulb can last from between 8-10 years and, by just replacing your existing lightbulbs with these CFL bulbs, you can save up to fifty cents per month on your electric bill, PER BULB. The savings are really incredible.
“Are those tears?” my wife asks me, and I turn away slightly, not realizing she’d sneaked up right next to me.
“So-what-if-they-are?” I snap, “It’s just… *sniff*… such a good DEAL…” I say, dabbing my eyes with my shirtsleeve while I read on about wattage and candlepower. It’s got a graph and everything.
My wife sighs and puts her hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to need a second cart, aren’t we?” she asks.
“At the very least, baby-doll.” I say, holding my head up high to stave off more tears. “At the very least.”
On a related note, I still haven’t used up those bulbs I bought that day. Score one more for self, baby.
