Thrift Shop

I had an argument with my dad the other day about the price of the Kobo e-reader. As you know, I went through a great many hurdles in order to acquire said e-reader (that's electronic reader for the uninitiated. God, I'm so helpful sometimes). A lot of it is because I really, really wanted to buy it at the cheapest price I could. The best possible outcome was $142 (Officeworks + staff discount). The worst possible outcome was $160 (Harvey Norman). I ended up with $153. 

My unrelenting dedication to acquiring it for $142 (but then I had to bump my best possible outcome to $153 as it quickly became clear that $142 was just not going to happen) bothered my dad who said all this trouble was not worth the $7 (160 - 153) I wanted to save. Why put myself through this for such a measly sum?

In my head, I know this is logical. $7 is very little in the grand scheme of things. It becomes even more insignificant when making large purchases (as if people buying homes care if the cost is $450 000 or $450 007). But I just keep thinking, "Jeez, that $7 could have bought me xxx." 

In some ways, I think being thrifty is good but I also think I'm probably too thrifty (read: cheap). Maybe it will change when I work full time. My brother, on the other hand, is so unthrifty that it often physically pains me to watch him spend money the way he does. I get a twitchy feeling in my arms and hands that makes me want to grab the money from his hands and put it back into his bank account.

It's very inconvenient.

A good solution to all this would be if I was super rich... but there's the small chance I'd still be just as cheap. That would just be sad.

J