Sometimes you set yourself up for failure, and you can only clearly see it in retrospect.
A few weeks ago we decided to day trip by car to make a socially-distanced visit to family who live a few hours' drive from us. We planned to hit the road early, and piggybacked a shopping trip for shoes for one of my (rapidly growing) kids onto the trip. Big mistake.
My normal procedure is to shop at thrift stores, discount stores, and REI used gear sales. The latter are now available online, although at higher prices than I tended to find when the store sold the used gear in a big garage sale affair.
The key to shopping wisely is being unrushed. I take my time, and buy nothing if there are no acceptable options. I tend to purchase shoes 1-2 pairs ahead of when my current ones wear out so there's never an emergency that forces an unexpected spend.
The rationale for departing from this time-tested protocol was that COVID now equated time inside a store with potential exposure. Thus, we would arrive at opening time and commit to finding something that would do the job as quickly as possible.
We masked up and I took the kid with growing feet into a large chain discount shoe store. First, we hit the sale racks, but there was nothing acceptable (I am slowly adjusting to the reality that my kids are old enough to have opinions of their own).
Next, we uncharacteristically hit the retail racks. Although it pained me to pay full price, the scenario was a perfect storm for enabling poor judgment: sure, there were other store options on the road that we could potentially visit, but each additional stop risked both further exposure as well as delaying our arrival during an epoch when visits with family are precious and few. As a result, I bought my kid a pair of shoes more costly than any pair of shoes I've ever bought myself, roughly double the usual price I pay.
We were in and out in under a half hour, but once in the car the implications of my error sank in, expressing remorse as a manic stream of consciousness. Was this action the first step down the road to raising entitled, spoiled kids? Had I capitulated to a child's whims for fashion? Would my children require outpatient economic care for the rest of their lives because of my slip up? Were shoes a gateway spend?
Was I an idiot?
My wife and I spent the next half hour of our drive discussing the value of a dollar earned from work; our concerns about raising the kids in a bubble that we'd deliberately chosen for them, for reasons of safety and education; our concerns that if they reset their expectations (and how could they not, we argued!) to believe they would be entitled to such shoes on future shopping trips they would disappoint us beyond belief.
Finally, in a sympathetic tone, one of the kids gently observed that they had not forsaken our family values, and that our soliloquy seemed to be going in circles. Perhaps it was possible that we were talking for our own reassurance rather than their benefit?
They had a point. They had not done anything we hadn't permitted. We shoved our emotional baggage into the overhead compartment and enjoyed the rest of the drive together.
Comments 14
Oh, it pains me to pay full price! Especially for shoes.
Like you, it’s not that we can’t afford the shoes, it’s that it feels like you’re losing the game when you fork over full retail (or $79.99 instead of $89.99 because they’re “on sale”).
We got really lucky a few weeks ago when both of my boys left their running shoes at our cabin and one of them had a cross country meet the day we realized it. The clearance section at our local Meijer (like a Target, sort of) had running shoes in their sizes at 50% off of the already reduced clearance price. Meijer even had a pair for me that fit well.
I walked out with three pairs of running shoes for about $55.
And I was happy.
I don’t know that any amount of net worth or retirement savings will take away that discount-seeking baggage that has served us so well for so many years. I like to shop victoriously.
Cheers!
-PoF
Author
PoF,
I’m relieved to hear the running shoe crisis worked out for you in the end!
It breaks my heart to admit that what you paid for 3 pairs was less than what I paid for one pair.
I’m not trying to break frugal habits, simply to avoid ulcers from the inevitable exceptions that are bound to occur.
Happy running, and careful with those record-setting snowstorms!
CD
Love it. Your struggle is real. Not sure why but I felt the same way when our son came back from Staples on a trip with high school friends to buy school supplies and drink Boba. Not sure if this is a new thing for nerdy highschool kids? But anyway, he came home with a $70 binder. It was a nice binder but $70! Mr. Plastic Picker was okay with it. I was a bit shocked and did express my opinion. But I do have to say even three years later, he’s still using the binder.
Author
Thanks for making me feel less alone in my neuroticism, DPP!
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Shoes while I do like to get them on sale, are something I won’t not get because of price. My dad got a pair of shoes eachbfor my sister and I, on sale when a store was going out of business, and while I totally appreciate it! They could fit better and are not my go to.
So if the shoes weren’t up to your kids’ standard, and didn’t fit quite right, are you worse off than spending a bit more for what they will wear?
Author
Jacq,
I see your point, but it’s a slippery slope. The kid I took shoe shopping is the most fashion conscious one in the family (as proof, I am typing this wearing a pair of ripped Levi’s that is older than that very kid), and a savvy exploiter of human emotion.
This is the kid that, after barely touching dinner and being warned she won’t get another chance to eat, is able to guilt trip her mother into letting her snack further because “no child should go to bed hungry.” So she knows exactly which levers to pull (I am equal parts proud and terrified of her skills at manipulating her parents).
I want things to fit right and be comfortable, but I can’t shake the feeling that only the trendiest shoes and finer brands seem to ever fit in this way. So it’s hard to tell when I’m simply paying more for better quality and when I’m the patsy.
Probably not worth obsessing over, but that’s easier said than done.
Fondly,
CD
P.S. I have one of those dads who buys on sale for me – and I’m learning to be more gracious in declining those gifts for the reasons you enumerated.
Haha, yep! It’s difficult to break out of routines.
Similarly, we’re pretty consistent with our grocery spending month-to-month.
But, with the ongoing pandemic…that’s changed.
We try to get in and out of there quickly, generally not making much effort to follow sale items, digital coupons, or rebates.
We get what we need and get out.
But, I suppose, that’s why we have an emergency fund. After all…
…If this isn’t an emergency, what is?
Cheers! Stay safe.
Author
Hey Chris,
Thanks for stopping by, and for the words of consolation – it does make sense that a pandemic would enable an emergency spend without guilt.
I like to aim for “surgical” shopping experiences – find the item, toss it in the cart and get out of Dodge as soon as possible. So I guess the kids shoes could be considered both part of a surgical approach and an emergency spend.
I’ll work on getting over it,
CD
Wasn’t it Gump who said “anal is as anal does”? Parsimony means you take ALL of the variables into account at a specific time, not some preferred fixed subset. You have the privilege of possessing non-growing feet. In social justice circles that’s called “foot privilege”. Your children don’t yet possess foot privilege. So as in all social justice, the privileged get to pay! Soon enough your kids will be privileged and will have procreated some non-privileged of their own and the suffering will be theirs. Gramps will be back to perusing the used store at his leisure and maybe PRN, hunting bargains for the grandkids.
Author
I love the concept of foot privilege, and look forward to the day I get to hunt deals at the thrift store for the grandkids. With luck, frugality will be my legacy.
I’m acutely aware that mine is a very privileged form of suffering.
Fondly,
CD
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Ha ha love your story. My kids 11 and 8 have only just begun to realise that they never get new clothes and often have used shoes. The little one complained that he never has anything new. I tried to reassure him that the older brother doesn’t either and this upset him also as it meant his items were 3rd hand instead of just second hand. I never throw away any item that has life in it and am now giving the eldest clothes that I wore as a teenager ( I’m in my 40s). We have always bought their school uniforms from the gold coin donation system at the school and some are faded, ripped (which I repair) or stained. So I kind of felt sorry for the eldest going to high school and worrying about what awful looking used uniform we would find for him. So I tested his resolve by saying it was his decision. If he wanted a brand new uniform that was fine ( probably at a cost of $300) but if we found him a good quality used uniform he could keep the difference. He agreed very quickly to this idea. So it’s interesting how the kids would spend if it is like their own money.
Author
Kwoz,
If we hold onto our clothes long enough before passing them onto our kids, do they come back in style?
Your example of offering him the chance to keep the difference between the cost of a new uniform and the used one is a master class in teaching the value of money – what a brilliant story!
Whenever our kids tell us how different they are than their peers, I try to build up their outsider identity and remind them we aren’t like other families – in lots of positive ways (extensive summer travel together pre-COVID; lots of time spent with working parents by comparison) and it usually reminds them of their good fortune.
Keep up the wise and frugal ways!
CD