on being cheap
Monday, September 15, 2008
I’m drinking a crappy cup of coffee. Know why? ‘Cause I’m cheap.
I’ve been house sitting in Austin for a few days. I brought along some good coffee from home but didn’t have enough for my last morning (today) so while I was at Target the other day, I grabbed a can of Maxwell House to tide me over. You know—a $4 pound of coffee. How bad can it be?
Bad.
“Why didn’t you just go to Starbucks and buy a bag of coffee?” Tom asked. “Oh, never mind...”
He knows the answer. It’s because I’m cheap. And now, choking down my crappy cup of coffee, I am chastising myself for the kabillionth time for my cheapness.
Frugal-good. Cheap-stupid.
Being frugal means you buy just what you need and don’t spend beyond your means.
Being cheap means you buy the cheapest version of whatever you need, bring it home and realize that it’s a piece of crap and you get what you pay for. And when it falls far short of your needs, or breaks down after two uses, or tastes like reheated swill that’s been sitting at the bottom of the coffee pot since last week, you have to replace it, thereby spending considerably more than you would have if you hadn’t been so damn cheap.
Essentially, I spent $4 on two cups of really lousy coffee because there’s no way I’m bringing this can o’ crap home. I’ll leave it at the house I’m sitting with a note of apology to my friends. And I’ll probably have to stop somewhere and get myself a decent cup of coffee before my drive home. Perhaps Starbucks, where my one cup of coffee will cost nearly as much as the pound of Maxwell House.
I do this to myself in restaurants, too. I might want the $15 entree, but I order the $8.95 one because I’m cheap. Then a have food envy, watching Tom dig into an “expensive” meals that look a lot better than whatever soggy afterthought has been tossed onto my plate.
I’ve done to myself over and over for as long as I can remember, and every time I do, I vow to change my ways. But cheapness is an extremely difficult habit to break. I need some sort of mantra to chant to myself every time I find myself drifting towards the bargain that isn’t.
Perhaps, “Don’t be so goddam cheap, Sophie.”
I’ve been house sitting in Austin for a few days. I brought along some good coffee from home but didn’t have enough for my last morning (today) so while I was at Target the other day, I grabbed a can of Maxwell House to tide me over. You know—a $4 pound of coffee. How bad can it be?
Bad.
“Why didn’t you just go to Starbucks and buy a bag of coffee?” Tom asked. “Oh, never mind...”
He knows the answer. It’s because I’m cheap. And now, choking down my crappy cup of coffee, I am chastising myself for the kabillionth time for my cheapness.
Frugal-good. Cheap-stupid.
Being frugal means you buy just what you need and don’t spend beyond your means.
Being cheap means you buy the cheapest version of whatever you need, bring it home and realize that it’s a piece of crap and you get what you pay for. And when it falls far short of your needs, or breaks down after two uses, or tastes like reheated swill that’s been sitting at the bottom of the coffee pot since last week, you have to replace it, thereby spending considerably more than you would have if you hadn’t been so damn cheap.
Essentially, I spent $4 on two cups of really lousy coffee because there’s no way I’m bringing this can o’ crap home. I’ll leave it at the house I’m sitting with a note of apology to my friends. And I’ll probably have to stop somewhere and get myself a decent cup of coffee before my drive home. Perhaps Starbucks, where my one cup of coffee will cost nearly as much as the pound of Maxwell House.
I do this to myself in restaurants, too. I might want the $15 entree, but I order the $8.95 one because I’m cheap. Then a have food envy, watching Tom dig into an “expensive” meals that look a lot better than whatever soggy afterthought has been tossed onto my plate.
I’ve done to myself over and over for as long as I can remember, and every time I do, I vow to change my ways. But cheapness is an extremely difficult habit to break. I need some sort of mantra to chant to myself every time I find myself drifting towards the bargain that isn’t.
Perhaps, “Don’t be so goddam cheap, Sophie.”
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Even Half & Half, my morning fat of choice, could not improve the swill. I cheaped out on my drive home and got a large McDonald's coffee to fend off the caffeine withdrawal headache that was descending. It was good. Delicious actually. I bet the Maxwell House is still there next time I visit.
For cheapness and flavor, Chock-Full-O-Nuts has never failed. Plus, the added chicory puts a little spring in your step. Sorry you had to endure bad java. Been there. Drunk that!
You're right--Chock Full o Nuts is really good stuff. Not quite heavenly, but good. If Target had it, I would have got that. Oh, did I mention I'm lazy, too?
You could have walked a few blocks from where you were staying and gone to the Bouldin Creek Coffee House---thus getting a little exercise AND a decent cuppa joe. But you were a poor Dallas evacuee---how were you to know?
I was thinking after your first sucky cup of Maxwell House you'd have had enough caffeine in you to make the trek.
Yeah, I should have. I forgot about that place. I was distracted by getting the house in order before I left. And the washing machine wasn't working right. No spinnage.
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