I have plans. Don’t despair.
That is all for now.
I have plans. Don’t despair.
That is all for now.
Yeah, I know. I don’t care. I have a life too, you know?
Broke out the barbeque for the first time this summer, on New Years’s Day. It’s a charcoal grill, so that means a certain amount of boy scout ingenuity is required to get a good fire.
I’ve never liked firelighters or lighter fluid for this purpose. They smell funny, and although I suppose all the petrochemicals have burned off by the time you put the meat on, I find the taint of plastic off-putting and inappropriate.
Hitherto I have used crumpled newspaper and kindling to lay a conical fire in the approved manner. This can be a bit slow and I find it a little nerve-wracking. Today I had a brainwave. I have egg cartons, and I have old cooking oil. (Of course I have a jar of old oil from frying chicken in the fridge. Who doesn’t?) What would happen if I put a half centimetre of crummy rancid friend chicken oil in each egg cell, built a charcoal pyramid atop it, and lit the carton?
What happens is that you have a damned good fire. That’s what happens. How virtuous. Better than recycling it this way.
Oh yeah, don’t put fat down the drain either.
A new discount store selling junk food will feed our growing obesity epidemic by encouraging bad eating habits, dieticians say.
Back then I wasn’t too impressed:
I have to say I was a bit disappointed. I really like the concept, and I was hoping I’d see a somewhat supermarket-like range of dry goods. But the shop is quite small, and the range seemed limited, mostly to confectionary and packaged snack food of a low-grade sort. I did see some cheap sugar (can sugar spoil? I don’t think so) but it was not markedly cheaper than the cheapest sugar at Pak’N’Save up the road. The only useful basic thing I saw there was liquid laundry detergent.
I said I’d pop back in a month or two. Two months, eleven months, who cares? Also, apparently last year I had not yet learned to spell “confectionery.” Anyway today we were buying cheap curtains at a Briscoes’ sale out in Rongotai, so we popped around the corner on a whim.
(Do Briscoes ever not have a sale? There must be some times when they don’t, because I think it’s illegal to advertise sales that aren’t discounts to normal prices. But if there were truth in advertising, they could call their sales “normal pricing days where you have to do some maths” and the small periods with no sales could be “extra high prices for people who can’t wait but have to buy from Bricoes days.” But anyway, this was an actual saley sale that really was cheaper than normal and I know because we checked at the Warehouse first. I just want to make that clear.)
I’m pleased to report that the range at the Reduced To Clear shop has definitely broadened out to the point where it’s worth stopping in if it’s on your route, or checking out their website. I bought salt and tinned fish, but there was also a variety of other things (zip-lock bags, cooking oil, pasta, coconut cream, juice, yoghurt, cleaning products…) beyond confectionery that would definitely be on someone’s normal shopping list.
Incidentally, I was amused to see a laminated clipping from the Dompost’s “devastating for diets” story pinned up on the wall behind the tills. I guess any publicity is good publicity, and as long as the public hears you have cheap sweets, what’s not to like? For what it’s worth, nobody in the fairly busy shop today appeared more than usually overweight. I am a svelte 78kg these days and left with impeccably high protein, low fat purchases.
I reckon I’ve spent about $120 on shoes on Trade Me this year. For this outlay I’ve received four pairs of very solid, classy, high end shoes — classic style, old-school welts, leather sole, good condition. Only one pair has not fit, and I’m going to sell it again, or maybe trade them in at my favourite second hand clothes shop, so I expect to realise a small loss on them. I reckon I am still well, well ahead of the game here. I have shoes which prompt unsolicited compliments for a fraction of the price they would have cost new. In fact, I found one pair of the very same make and style in a Cuba St vintage shop for twice what I paid on Trade Me.
Trade Me’s saved search facility has been very helpful. I have a saved search in the mens shoes 8-8.5 category on “loake OR barker OR grenson OR church OR vintage” which pretty much covers anything of interest, ie English-made welted shoes and odd old ones. The thing about the English welted shoes is that they are generally made to a very high standard and are designed to be resoled and have a long life.
Another thing I’ve learned is to ask for measurements as well as the size. People can be a bit vague about US vs UK sizes, and sizing varies anyway, so find out how long and how wide the shoes are and compare this with a pair that fits.
Knowing how to do a good spit shine has also brought them up a treat. Old leather, well polished, looks better to me than new.
About the only problem is that the shoes are very nice, and the pleasure of acquiring a bargain is strong, so I’m kind of tempted now to keep going and buy more shoes than I need. I guess I need to delete that saved search…
At a meta level, I believe I’ve practised proper purchasing. I read up on the subject. I looked around to find out what the normal price was. I took the time to find a cheap source. I lurked and ruminated before buying. Mission accomplished.
In my last post, I talked about how one-day-deal websites exploit your sense of urgency to make you spend money you otherwise wouldn’t.
I became particularly aware of this after reading Robert Cialdini’s Influence.
Cialdini is an American psychologist. His book Influence is all about techniques of persuasion and in particular, how these are used in politics, marketing and sales. Cialdini’s aim in writing the book is ostensibly to enable people to detect when these techniques are being used and thus to protect themselves. But you can’t help noticing from online reviews that marketers and sales people pretty much use his book as a manual.
As Gio would say, I love this book so much I want to marry it. I’m planning to write more about Influence, but for now I want to stick with the urgency thing. Urgency is covered in Influence in the chapter on scarcity:
… Something that on its own merits held little appeal for me had become decidedly more attractive merely because it was rapidly becoming less available.
… people frequently find thimselves doing what they wouldn’t much care to do simply because the time to do so is running out. The adept merchandisers makes this tendency pay off by arranging and publicising customer deadlines that generate interest where none may have existed before.
Those one day sites don’t have to have a 24 hour window. They could be two day sites, or one week sites, or shock! they could have no time limit at all, and just be a remainder warehouse with a catalogue. There’s a reason they have the arbitrary, needless limit of one day only — it’s because they sell more that way than if they just listed their stock and waited for you to come to them. Hence my belief that in keeping tabs on such sites, you’re asking to be sucked in to spend money you don’t mean to.
Cialdini doesn’t mention this, but of course if you’ve only got a few hours, you’re not exactly going to be able to do due diligence as well as if you had a few days. Nor are you going to be able to cool off and reassess the way that you could if you went home from a shop and thought about it.
This stuff is everywhere, of course. We’re still looking for a house (yeah, it’ll be six months soon) and I have been struck by how real estate agents try to create a sense of urgency in you. I have come to detest this as particularly manipulative.
Oh, there’s been a lot of interest. I’m expecting this one to go quickly. I can let you have a look now — it might not last until the open home. When can I expect your offer — this afternoon? Or shall we say 10 am tomorrow?
There are plenty of houses, pal. If we miss this one, I expect there will be another one soon enough.
On a completely other note, Lisa commented on an old post just now. Cheap chickpeas! Go to it.
Our new pressure cooker is giving me a lot of jollies on the frugal front.
Pressure cookers save power. Maybe only a few cents, but it adds up, you know?
And pressure cookers save a lot of time. Since the cheapest tasty protein is mostly legumes and tough meat, it makes a big difference to a busy person if you can get them cooked more than twice as fast. For example I’ve found so far that 35 minutes — five minutes to come to pressure, 20 minutes at pressure, 10 minutes to release pressure — is enough to render beef shin totally tender, and 25 is enough for dried beans (albeit with a soak first). Those are both things that previously I would only have had time for on the weekend, but which are now feasible on a week night. I also foresee a lot of soups made from odds and ends.
And this pressure cooker was cheap. About $30 I think, on one of those websites that have deals for just 24 hours. Kathy PM’ed me and said “do you want a pressure cooker for $30?” and I was all “I am hella keen on pressure cookers” and she was like “that’s good cause I got us one.”
Yet this bothers me.
Those sites are a nasty play on our psychology. We are hard-wired to take up opportunities that look as though they are about to vanish. That is the basis of all “limited time only” deals — to give an extra tweak to an offer that will make you more likely to buy. The “one day only” sites are particularly bad because they encourage you to check every day, or even to sign up to be alerted every day. And sometimes you get something great, so there’s also intermittent positive reinforcement, which is the most powerful kind for forming habits.
In my experience, usually those great deals can be had elsewhere without the pressure if you are prepared to look around. And sometimes if you check the specs of what’s on offer, you realise that the deal isn’t even that great. The price looks cheap for the product, but the product itself is inferior. Over time, this has to be a recipe for spending money you didn’t mean to spend on stuff that isn’t the best stuff you could have for that money. Those sites may have bargains, but spending lots on crap, no matter how cheap, is not frugal.
In this case I feel we definitely won, but we’ve got to stop checking those sites. Pretend I wrote a really good moral using the metaphor of pressure and contrasting good and bad here.