Coupons Are a Diabolical Plot

The last time I bought gasoline, the lady in the payment window handed me a little envelope.

"Oh, what's this?" I said.

"Each time you buy gasoline you get a stamp on one of these boxes. When the boxes are all stamped, and the envelope is full of gas receipts, you can mail it to our corporate office, and they will send you a coupon for a free Dominos' Pizza."

"Thank you, sounds great!" I said, and put the envelope into the black hole of my purse. It will never be seen again until I empty out the contents six months from now looking for a quarter for the phone, and find it there; blackened, crumpled and expired.

It's the same old story for me and coupons. I have friends who religiously clip coupons from the Sunday paper, put them in a special envelope, and "cut their weekly grocery bill by 50%!" I don't know why, but coupons and I don't mix. I cut them out and then forget to bring them to the grocery store. I cut them out, bring them, and forget to use them. I forego the name brand coupon item for a store brand that's cheaper anyway. I finally decide to use them for a more expensive item that I have waited to purchase, and then when I finally buy the item and present the coupon, I find out that the offer is kaput. Or I find out that I have to buy two of them to get the discount, and I don't want two, or I don't need two, or I don't have enough money to spend on two so that I can "save."

Or I buy the thing and then have to cut out UPC symbols and enclose them with a rebate coupon and the original receipt with the item circled for which I will not receive a discount for 6 to 8 weeks. Then the rebate finally arrives in the mail with "MONISTAT SEVEN YEAST INFECTION REBATE", WRITTEN IN EMBARRASSINGLY HUGE LETTERS ON THE ENVELOPE WHICH THE WHOLE POST OFFICE AND ALL THE CUSTOMERS SEE IN MY HANDS AS I WALK OUT THE DOOR. I have to honestly ask myself, do I have time for this?

Before I was married I lived in a house with a bunch of platonic male and female housemates. I went into a department store one day and bought a bra advertised, "with out wire." It came with a coupon that you mail to the manufacturer and they send you another one free. One day I came home and one of my male housemates greeted me with a teasing smile and said, "A package came for you." In gigantic letters written on the box it said, "Your WOW Bra has arrived!" (WOW being short for "with out wire.") Like I really needed this kind of abuse from retail merchants.

But there are other ways you can save without embarrassment, such as using coupons for innocent items like pizza or cereal or headache medicine (which I have needed a lot lately for some reason.) Sometimes I dedicate a drawer in the kitchen for coupons, and each Sunday I stuff a new pile into the drawer. Every few months I throw out the expired ones and save new ones. Then I forget that I have a coupon drawer and I shove a few pot holders and kitchen towels in there until I get a cleaning and nesting urge -- such as, when I'm going to have a baby -- and then I clean out all the useless coupons again. Where is there a puppy to housebreak when you need one? A birdcage to line the bottom of, as it were?

Despite these miscarriages of economy, there is still a force that drives me from within to try to save money. Sometimes at 11:45 pm I realize that we didn't return the video that we rented two days ago, so I will grab myself by the scruff of the neck and kick myself into the car even though I am so tired I can hardly see straight, and I drive to the video store, risking life and limb for the sake of saving $2. Is it worth it, I ask myself?

My husband is helping me with this. If you're too tired, it's not worth risking a car accident to drive a movie back. (Gee Dad, it's too bad Mom died, but at least we didn't have to pay a late fee for that video!) Why drive to the grocery store five miles away to save 29 cents on a can of frozen juice, when it costs more than that in gasoline to drive there? Why make an appointment with a little service station to get the car oil changed for $12.99, when I'll have to sit in their waiting room for six hours until they finally get around to doing it? I could go to Jiffy Lube, spend the $26, be finished in twenty minutes, and then go do something valuable with my time -- like go home and clip coupons.