“You have $6.00 in rewards to spend at your local Staples store!” the email said. Six bucks isn’t a lot of money these days unless you’re a cheapskate. I proudly plead guilty to that description, though I prefer to think of the impulse in more morally defensible terms. Why let a good reward go to waste? If you spotted six dollar bills on the street or even a five and a one would you ignore them? Of course not.
I’m not naïve enough to believe Staples or any other merchant is offering rewards out of the goodness of their hearts. I’ve heard these incentives described as loyalty programs but it would take a lot more than that to earn my loyalty. Their thinking, I assume, is that once they get you into the store you’ll find excuses to spend a lot more money than whatever the amount of the incentive. Also, I considered the Staples reward less a gift than credit that rightfully belonged to me. I’d returned three spent printer ink cartridges, receiving two dollars back for each cartridge in recycling rewards.
Still, the money was burning a hole in my pocket as the rewards expiration date approached. What will six dollars buy you at Staples or anywhere else these days? Probably not much. Also, I didn’t feel any existential urge to purchase paperclips or rubber bands. I was well-stocked. However, my wife needed invitation-sized envelopes; that was all the incentive I required to jump in the car. I suppose one should include the price of gasoline in any cost/benefit analysis, especially when the margins are so thin, but you could go crazy.
With my six-dollar reward I was able to acquire the envelopes at what amounted to a 45% discount. Not bad for an hour’s work, especially if you’re looking for an excuse to take the rest of the day off.
I don’t want anybody to think that I’m a rewards junkie. Eddie Bauer recently tried to entice me with a $10 “Adventure Reward,” apparently wanting me to equate the incentive as a gateway to serious fun, such as rock climbing or whitewater rafting with the need to buy all the associated equipment. I didn’t bite, reluctantly allowing my reward to expire. I’ve gotten some nice stuff at Eddie Bauer before – including an indestructable camping flask and some 36” length chinos, a hard size to find. Both of which were starkly discounted. At other times I’ve visited and left empty-handed.
Just as an aside, all of this requires one to be an educated consumer. I’m not suggesting my wife isn’t. But sometimes she’ll return from a store boasting she bought a four hundred dollar sweater for twenty bucks. I have to point out that just because the merchant slapped a $400 price tag on the garment doesn’t necessarily make it so. Nonetheless, bargain hunting is but one of her many stellar qualities.
Back to Eddie Bauer. Their nearest location is a half hour by car and there’s a good chance that after all the effort I might find nothing to arouse my avarice. There happens to be an excellent discount liquor store next door that might help amortize the cost of the journey, especially if I filled a shopping cart with tequila and gin, but now you’re getting into complex mathematics.
The best recent example I can cite of a rewards program working out well for all involved occurred when LL Bean awarded me $10 off my next purchase last February. By the way, the ultimate challenge in playing the rewards game is to spend no more than the amount of the reward, no matter how meager, and still get something you want. So just before the reward ran out, indeed that very day, I called the legendary Maine retailer and asked them what I could get for ten bucks? LL Bean isn’t the mom and pop store of lore, hasn’t been for decades, but I still find their operators to be rather helpful and homey, and from Maine to boot. Or should I say duck boot.
The operator admitted that there wasn’t much, if anything, in their catalogue for which my reward would cover the full cost. However, they happened to be having a sale and she’d just bought both her father and boyfriend tick repellant khakis at a fraction of the cost. With my ten-dollar coupon they were almost giving the pants away. So on her recommendation I bought them.
And they’re great, allowing me to hike the woods without fear of ticks for at least the next seventy washings. That’s the other, not quite subliminal, benefit of purchasing an item with rewards money. If you’re cheap, though I prefer to think of it as fiscally frugal, every time you don the garment you’re reminded that you got a deal. That feeling is just about priceless.
Ralph Gardner, Jr. is a journalist who divides his time between New York City and Columbia County. More of his work can be found at ralphgardner.com
The views expressed by commentators are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the views of this station or its management.
