I just returned from the grocery store with my house brands and sale item chicken but the thrill is starting to dim. An exercise that used to make me puff my chest out and haphazardly leave the grocery receipt within eyesight of the Countess now is becoming just another chore.
Three or four years ago, thanks to the Great Recession and my early retirement I found myself working from home and voluntarily doing the marketing. What a rush!
As a lifelong corporate type I made my living squeezing percentage points from vendor invoices and delivering good service without paying retail for just about anything. Of course the travel and lodging universe is ripe with legit scams to score first class upgrades and half price rooms so there were almost daily opportunities to convince oneself that we were saving corporate dollars while enjoying a major uptick in personal luxury. I was a Zen master of corporate travel.
Suddenly, going serious grocery shopping became my new project. I made friends with the butcher and deli mistress learning their secrets of special cuts and daily specials. I bought mixed cases of cheap wine in an effort to identify the lowest piece point that would not make my wife pour out the swill.
I actually succeeded in developing her palate to accept a California blend that is cheaper than beer and has a label that’s sorta pretty.
But how low can I go? Could I be a STAR “Extreme Couponer?”
Recently, the floor seems to have been reached and I’m finding almost no way to make a significant dent in my habitual list. It makes me think that if there’s another really bad financial shock I’ve got nowhere to save more money as I hunt and gather. I’ve heard stories of concrete floored discount grocers in the suburbs that sell dented cans and day old bread. (Image of shuttering middle-aged man inserted here)
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What real happens. What she says. What he hears. And Vice Versa. (Click here) Brett and Megan have breakfast