“Do you know there’s a coupon for that peanut butter?” The friendly checkout lady chirped.
Inwardly, I gnashed my teeth. Yes, I knew, but it was sitting on my kitchen counter, safely tucked in the envelope labeled Groceries. I answered in a depressed voice, “Yes, but I left it at home.”
“Well,” she gave a kindly smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got one here.” Reaching beneath the counter, she pulled up a pile of coupons, expertly flipped through it and within seconds, found the one for peanut butter. “Here you go,” she said and applied it to my sale total.
Saved by the kindness of a stranger, I hoisted my grocery bag and left the store wondering why I even bothered. For the past few months I had been on a mission to use coupons. My daughter and good friend did and saved tons of money. Why not me?
Now I was finding out why not me. The peanut butter incident gave me a good honest look at myself. Setting my grocery bag behind the seat, I realized that sadly, I have absolutely no talent at couponing.
Even though I’d been trying, the art of couponing eluded me. I spent Sundays scouring the Duluth paper, sometimes reaching as far south as the Twin Cities to clip coupons from their newspapers.
I organized them, made a conscious effort to bring them everywhere and even periodically rifled through the pile to cull the outdated ones.
It was worth it when I remembered to bring them along and to use them before they expired. Coupons did save me money and not only that, I loved the feeling of power at beating the system, of not paying full price. Of believing, however briefly, that somehow I was coming in ahead of the game.
But like a foxhole convert, my faith didn’t last. It was just too darn much work, and I had no ability. Heck, I couldn’t even flip through a pile of coupons without spilling three or four on the floor.
The peanut butter incident sent me on a downward spiral. I began backsliding, forgetting to bring in a golf tournament prize coupon, ignoring the shopper’s flyer at Walgreens, not caring if I saved 13 cents.
I’ve returned to my status as a non-coupon user, happy to admire those who are. My daughter always carries her special coupon carrier, a small purse bulging with them. Wherever we go, whether it’s Wal-Mart or Nordstroms, she pulls off a deal. I was especially impressed on a visit to the “Butterfly House” (a huge greenhouse filled with tropical plants and butterflies in St. Louis). As we paid our entry fee, she triumphantly pulled out several coupons for substantial discounts.
My good friend has the same talent. She has coupons for everything. On a Duluth shopping trip I watched as she managed to significantly reduce the price of a very nice Duluth hotel room. All day long, she pulled coupons from her handbag like a magician pulls out bunnies. I finally realized, as she stood behind me at Target’s checkout counter, coupons in hand, organized, alert and ready to get her discounts while I submissively held out my credit card to the clerk, that I will always be a full price person.
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