Fraters Libertas

But Was It Really A Bargain Afterall?

Lately I've been watching my pennies more and more. Strangely enough, it seems that extended unemployment is not good for one's bank account (who knew?). So to say I was thrilled to see that Rainbow was actually offering some real bargains for a change is an understatement.

Like some kind of dutiful housewife, I gathered the circular, made my list and headed to Roseville for some cheap grocery shopping.

It wasn't long ago that I refused to use a cart. Too cool you see (not really, you reply). It just didn’t feel right. It seemed sexier and cooler to grab one of them baskets and quickly whisk through the store.

Well, when there’s bargains afoot, a mere basket will not do--I had to cart. And as a matter of fact, at one point I was worried that I might have to get a second cart--creating one of those push-pull cart situations you see mothers of 7 occasionally engaging in.

I started with the Pepsi products. Five 12 packs for 10 bucks. Hard to beat. I loaded them into the bottom part of the cart and continued.

Next came the cereal. 8 boxes of Kellogg products for 10 bucks. I went with two Frosted Flakes, two Fruit Loops, a Raisin Bran, a Rice Krispies, and two Corn Pops. That ought to last a while.

Then the Aquafina. A buck for a six pack. I loaded ten in the cart.

Then I spied the score of the year. Red Baron Pizzas. Five for 10 bucks. Feeling a little (but only a little) embarrassed I loaded ten into the cart, but then noticed that there was a limit of five per customer. I grudgingly accepted the five but at this point there was basically no room so I was forced to balance them above the rim of the cart precariously.

As I started toward my next bargain the inevitable happened. The pizzas came crashing down like sheets of plywood off a third story roof. A moment before I had noticed a trio of young lovelies, college roommates I reckoned, who were doing a little shopping of their own. All three of them turned from reading the fat content on whatever products they were checking out and had a good old chuckle as I scrambled about, trying to pick up the pizzas and the remains of my self-respect. I’m sure they noted the kids cereals I was buying as well. I smiled a wan smile, as if to say “He he, pizza. Cheap. I like pizza.”

Not wanting to risk another disaster I made my way to the check out line. As I was unloading the score, the cashier, a woman in her mid fifties remarked “Boy, your kids are going to be eating cereal for a long time.” “I don’t have kids,” I said “I just shop like I do.”

So was it worth it? My self-respect for some good food deals? Absolutely. I've given my dignity for less. At least this way I'll get a little satisfaction (however fleeting) out of the deal. Hell, that's more than I can say about my last relationship.