Tom Whitehurst

Sunday, September 3, 2000

How not to save money

Listen up. This is a valuable economics lesson, brought to you at considerable expense.
   It's the story of the most expensive $36 pair of shoes in history.
   It's a tale of frugality gone awry, of the good intentions that paved the Road to Heck.
   I have only my own indecision to blame. You see, I was stepping into an area where I seldom ventured, an area fraught with danger - casual-wear shoes.
   The dressy stuff's a slam dunk - wingtips, black or cordovan. But this was an area as foggy and ill-defined as the mist that cloaked Sleepy Hollow - the nether world between charcoal pinstripe and jeans, where the right choice establishes you among the coolest of the cool and the wrong choice exposes you as the nerdiest of the nerds.
   Not just any shoe
   Add to the conundrum that I was looking for casual shoes in black, not brown or any other earthy tone. I needed casual shoes in the least casual of colors.
   Also, I'm not an easy fit. My feet are best described as Daffy Duck-like - flat and wide at the toes but tapering to a tiny, narrow point at the heel. That generally excludes tassel loafers or penny loafers, the otherwise-safe choices. Plus, I discovered only a couple of years ago that my shoe size had grown, or, more accurately, spread out. I had been under the mistaken impression that once you stop growing, your feet stopped, too.
   But most of all, I needed shoes that met my wife's approval. She doesn't actually dress me. I just sort of operate within a narrow range and before I dare stray from it, I ask, "Does this go with this?"
   Playing it too safe
   At times I have come home with a new pair of shoes and her reaction was, "So, you like those?"
   "What, you don't like them?"
   "Oh, no big deal. What's important is that YOU like them. Honey."
   Translation: If you want to look like a geek, go ahead.
   Outcome: Shoes stay in closet until time to donate to charity of choice. Money wasted.
   I was not going to take that chance this time. She was coming with me.
   With her help, I found the shoes. They really cost $36, they're casual, they're black, they fit and I'll wear them.
   The flaw in the plan
   Problem was, we didn't find them at the first store, a department store. But somehow, magically, that trip to the store cost about $125. I'm not even sure what we bought, except that none of it was for me and this shoe expedition was for my birthday. I do vaguely remember her saying something about getting ahead on Christmas shopping.
   Next stop, a shoe store. We didn't find the shoes, but she noticed some great backpacks on sale, really cheap. We bought two for a mere $15. I have to admit, that's really cheap for backpacks, especially if you need them, which we do, I guess.
   Next, a discount department store. Still no shoes for me, but a nice pair of sandals for her, $20.
   It was around this time that she started talking about putting us on a budget.
   Finally, we found the shoes at another department store. We also found a pair of athletic shoes for her.
   My shoes: $36. Our bill: $85. The economics lesson: Expensive.
   Hey, I'm all for stimulating the economy. I just didn't want to do it single-handedly.
   I have no one to blame but me. I know it's my fault because she told me so.
  

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