Column: It was the tightwad versus the big baby

By Margi Washburn

(Sunset over Veterans Park in Kewanee - if only the camera could have captured its true beauty.)

I’m a tad past middle age and I still haven’t learned that one shouldn’t assume anything.
For instance, I assumed that if any of our appliances went on the fritz, we would do quite a bit of grumbling to each other, lament our predicament in front of family and friends so they would show deep concern, and then we’d cancel eating out for the next six months and go out and buy what we desperately needed.
Will I never learn?
You know, of course, that we went through the refrigerator meltdown a few weeks back. The auction we attended and all upcoming such events showed nary a fridge. And so began the shopping.
I’ll tell you one thing. I was under the impression that guys don’t like to shop. They know what they want, they grab their car keys, drive to the store, stomp in, buy what they need and head straight for home. No stopping for breakfast or even coffee because they’re on a mission.
Well, let’s clear something up. That’s the biggest misconception out there. Hubby price-compared until I wanted to smack him upside the head.
We got tips from well-meaning friends, and we checked those out, too. One memorable Sunday, we were headed to Galesburg to check out Sears because the night before they had a terrific sale on appliances. Guess what? The very next day, the sale was off. I could feel my eyes stinging.
After wandering around for a few minutes, we found a willing clerk who cleverly explained that we were lucky we’d missed the latest sale because the appliances were actually cheaper now than they were the day before. I wondered if the two of us had the word stupid written on our foreheads.
But then the world got a whole lot brighter. “How desperate are you? Can you wait one more week?” My smile froze, yet my head was nodding because she looked like she was bursting to tell us a big secret.
“Next Sunday night we’re having a friends and family sale from 6 to 9.” She pointed to the refrigerator we wanted. “This model will be 30 percent off. Well, actually 27 percent because of the way we figure it.” She stopped talking and waited for us to process the good news.
I was thinking that I would take the figures back to Kewanee, show local businesses this great deal and we’d get our fridge right away. We could haul it ourselves and save money.
Hubby, on the other hand, was thinking that this was it. We’d wait, and continue using the dorm refrigerator that was taking up valuable counter space.
I opened my mouth first. “OK,” I said, “what about delivery?” After punching in our zip code, we got more good news: it would cost another $65 and we’d have to wait until the following Friday to get delivery. My mind was made up.
And so was hubby’s. He thought that was a fine idea, and off we went with the promise to return in a week.
I couldn’t talk over the lump in my throat, and instead of sympathizing, I was roundly criticized for not having any patience. No argument there, but I was tired of being without a major appliance.
The next two days I called around and tried to find someone to match the price, but no one could. Notice I didn’t use the word “would”; the price we got was simply too good.
I asked good friends what they thought. They were quick to sympathize and tell me that hubby was wrong, that we should just slap down the money and get our fridge here. But someone refused to budge, and that led to a few slamming doors whenever I’d leave the house muttering that someone was a “fat-headed tightwad.” Little did I know that he had a nickname for me.
I’m sure you ladies can remember how tears used to move your hubby to change his mind and give you your way. That doesn’t work forever. And when I finally admitted what I was calling him outside of earshot, he told me that he was calling me a big baby. Imagine that.
Sunday did indeed come, and he went over to pay for the fridge. He took the truck and brought that gorgeous appliance home himself because he said he felt it was his turn to compromise. If I could wait that long for the best bargain, he said, then he could take care of the rest.
I’ll spare you the Laurel and Hardy routine that ensued Sunday night when I tried to help hubby haul in our newest appliance. He managed to get the thing inside and hooked up in spite of my help, and the next morning I poured a cup of coffee, sat at the table and turned to stare and smile at the shiny, new refrigerator.
Oh, and by the way, I noticed that two of the auctions this week each have a refrigerator for sale. Like they say, timing is everything.