Guest Post- How I Learned the Value of a Coupon

The following is a guest post from my husband, Ryan. (Thanks, Ryan!) If you haven’t checked out his other posts here, click the “Husbands” tab above.

Ryan and our daughter playing with a Mentos container.

Plenty of people lose money to casinos and stock markets. I have a friend who lost $900 to the interstate.

It’s a sad story. Each dollar had been preserved toward the purchase of a dream. He departed his driveway with directions to the guitar store and an envelop full of cash. With money on the passenger seat, the radio blasting, and two hands drumming on his wheel he cruised down the highway. It was a sunny, windows-down kind of day. I picture him pelting out the lyrics along to an AC/DC track in a state of beguiled contentedness as his envelope escaped unnoticed through the open window. I hope someone found the $900 that landed on the 55 mile stretch of highway, though I’m doubtful it could have been used for as noble a purchase.

If my friend cried after he realized his loss (he’d never tell me), I wouldn’t draw shame to tears. Losing money is an anguishing experience.

My Frugal was on the verge of tears the other day. I know, because I saw the glassy look in her eyes before she averted them. And at that moment I learned something important about the value of a coupon.

It was date night and we were on our way to a trendy little coffee shop in the city. We were discussing Christmas plans maybe.

“Do you want a piece of gum?”

“Yeah sure”, I said.

She passed me a piece of Mentos soft center gum. She took a piece for herself. I was enjoying the strawberry taste and relating prior experiences with Mentos products. I enjoy them far too fast to receive their benefits. But why shouldn’t I? They taste incredible. It’s a clever marketing ploy. Mentos are candy disguised as a breath fresher. They’re down my gullet long before my breath can receive the benefit. I suppose the Mentos gum is an improvement in that respect. It stays in the mouth longer.

We talked about work. The strawberry taste was now rapidly fading with each chew. We stopped at a traffic light. I looked over. My Frugal had finished her gum and was proceeding to remove it.

“Emmmmm”

She was grasping for something. One hand held the used morsel of sticky Mentos gum, the other searched for a scrap of paper tissue to entomb it. As fate would have it, our car was clean that evening. No paper gum coffin available. Panicking, she reached for a remaining option: a stray news cutout in the middle console. I watched as the glossy cutout was ripped, crumbled, and formed into the outer layer of her chewed gum. She tossed it in the cup holder.

Seconds later I heard a brief, guttural moan. My Frugal reached for the deposed gum coffin. She took it between her fingers, and pulled gently at the corners of the glossy paper. She worked delicately, as if performing surgery on some small, yet much-loved pet. Unwrapped, the crumpled piece of grocery marketing lay in her hand, unusable, and sullied with a glob of pink stickiness. Only then did she realize her mistake.

“Ohhhhhhh”

Yes. She had unwittingly murdered a coupon.

“That was my Knorr Lipton Sides coupon!” her voice quivered. “I was going to use that for triple coupons.” Her hands deftly sorted through the survivors. “Oh. That was my only Lipton Sides.” “Ohhhhh.” she added. I was struck by the irony of the situation. When I glimpsed the beginnings of a tear in the corner of her eyes, I repressed my amusement. Apparently, this wasn’t just any coupon. I had to find out more.

This deposed coupon was a rare jewel. It granted the Frugal a discount on the purchase of two packages of an estimable rice product called Knorr Lipton Sides—a tasty side-dish, comparable to Uncle Bens. It was for 75 cents off. “But with triple coupons, that’s $2.25 off of two, which makes them almost free.”

Almost free rice? Yes. And it makes sense.

Because here’s what I’ve come to realize: the average person sees a coupon as a mere advertisement—junk mail and useless inserts. To Frugals, coupons are currency. They’re as real, as monetary, and as bankable, as anything produced by the U.S mint.

My Frugal lost money to a chewed piece of Mentos gum; my friend lost his to a window on the highway. In both cases, hard work was destroyed, and a slice of dream dashed.

Husbands, if you want to understand your Frugal, learn to view coupons through her eyes. A coupon box is actually a treasure box, a coupon insert is a paycheck, and coupon clipping is money-printing.

Frugals are wise. They’ve taught themselves a simple lesson: some money paper is green and some is glossy.

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Author of this Guest Post
Ryan Adams is the husband of frugal-mom, Dana Adams, the author of this blog, Frugal In Virginia. Ryan has his own blog which he uses as a podium for his ideas about business, technology, jobs, and entrepreneurship. He finds his wife’s blog much more interesting.