The Intersection of Guilt and Frugality

Y’all know I’m the Queen of Cheap. I will seek out deals and bargains (and free stuff, of course) wherever I can. I’m not one of those super-couponers who can score 3 baskets of groceries for $1.63, but, man, those folks are my heroes. I aspire to that, inasmuch as I have time between keeping my daughter from climbing the curtains and my son from shot putting baseballs across the house. Sigh. Someday.

Occasionally, my fervor for a steal overtakes me and I end up with stuff I don’t need. It’s a sickness I’m trying to control, with varying success. Apparently, I’ve been buying chicken at every sale for the past 6 months and didn’t realize it. I can probably hold a barbecue every weekend this summer and still have enough left over to the president of the Bo Pilgrim fan club.

I’ll give myself a pat on the back for not going crazy at the annual kid’s furniture sale I’ve been attending for the past few years. This year, I didn’t have my worst enabler with me, and I’d been given a stern warning the night before (“We’re going to have to start putting this stuff on the roof, Julie”). Of course, when you’re shopping for 2 other people who couldn’t make it, as well as helping out your sister-in-law in her first at bat, it all balances out. Apparently, bargain shopping for others is just as much of a high, with the added bonus of getting your money back when you drop the stuff off. Sweet!

I’d like to think I’m somewhat of a pro at this sale by now. The first year, I showed up by myself in my Honda Civic about an hour after the doors opened. Little did I know I’d miss some of the best stuff (not that I knew what any of the stuff would be) and that I’d have to resort to origami magic to get the toy boxes and cabinets I bought into that tiny clown car. The next year, I dispatched my dad to stake a place in line. This turned out to be quite smart, as a few more people found out about the sale, and by the time I got there, a fairly long line had formed. Did I mention I was 8 ½ months pregnant? I just excused my giant self all the way up to my dad and dared anyone to elbow me. We filled both vans. Then there was the year my dad didn’t think he’s need to get there all that early. He was wrong. I got lucky, arriving at just the moment they opened a second line, so I got in a lot sooner than I would have (a lot sooner than my dad even, as it turned out). Another 2 vanfuls.

By this year, I had learned to bring my own supplies for marking my territory, to get there at least 2 house before the start (bringing appropriate entertainment and sustenance), and to go with a plan. I knew what I was looking for, what my folks (who had the audacity to take a vacation at just the wrong moment, gah) wanted, and what my sister had requested. My SIL showed up just a little bit after I did, and we watched the line grow, and grow, and grow. This was Friday. I’m fairly sure there’s still a line now, even though the sale ended Saturday. We got in and went straight to work, finding, checking, claiming (it’s first come, first grab – basically shopping roller derby). Our good fortune helped us find everything on our wish lists pretty quickly and without being run over (too much). We had a very polite under the circumstances employee write up our order sheet (she’s only been working there 2 weeks, holy trial by fire!), we paid up, and hit the loading dock. And then, the schlepping. Back and forth 100 yards from dock to car. 5 times. I think. I lost count. I’m pretty sure that counts for the daily workout.

Later on, as I divvied up the bill (since we had one ticket, I paid for everything and can now nag several family members for money), I noticed the numbers didn’t add up. Turns out we were undercharged. And by more than a couple of bucks.

Here’s where you probably think, Julie is totally reveling in this because not only did she get the initial Cheap, she got bonus Cheap! But no. That’s not what happened.

Because in addition to being the Queen of Cheap, I am also the owner of the Most Guilty Conscience in the World. Seriously. I can feel guilt for just about anything. Short of killing bugs. But just about anything else.

So yesterday, I called. I left a message on their customer service line reporting the undercharge. A very sweet lady called me back. She told me they had never received a call like that in the history of the company. SHE thanked ME and told me whatever price I’d paid was the right price.

So. Score for me. And really, score for them, because you know I have to go back next year. With a few more of my friends.

(Note for Next Year: suggest they have Starbucks cart in the parking lot. They’d double their profits.)