Top-o-My-Head Ideas: A Corps of Cheapskates

On weekends I grocery shop with my friend Judy, who just turned 70, and was raised in a time when many family fortunes were drop-kicked during the Great Depression. Judy can stretch the hide off a buffalo nickel; she finds the Voluntary Simplicity movement hilarious, with its tips about recycling old Manolo Blahniks into patio planters. She is constitutionally incapable of leaving so much as a nightlight on when she exits her home, and her ‘fridge is always a forest of tiny leftover-filled glass dishes.

When I pointed out the opening in Portland of a new bulk-food store, Grocery Outlet, I expected the sort of swoon previously prompted by her discovery of the flat-rate postage deal for Express mail through the US Postal Service.

But, no. As Judy kindly pointed out, most people (she meant me) are lacking the key skills to make use of bulk-food purchasing. Sure I can get a mountain of veggies or chicken for a buck, but then what? I need to plan the meals, cook, and then prepare the stuff for freezing or long-term storage, and finally—here’s the kicker—actually be willing to eat these meals instead of opting to order pizza.

She makes a good point. It got me thinking: I can’t be the only bad planner, poor cook, food-waster out here, right? And, hey, we can learn. All we need is some expert assistance, like a visiting nurse, only able to walk us through that mysterious process that turns a bushel of sale tomatoes into enough salsa for the winter. We need the CCCC: the Civilian Conservation Corps for Cheapness. I hardly need to point out that this would also create dignified part-time jobs for retired seniors, ones that don’t require they chirp ‘Welcome to Wal-Mart!” all day long. CCCC agents would not even need to be polite. Like Judy, they could stare incredulously at those of us who buy wasteful eco-poison plastic wrap when a glass-covered dish works better.

My CCCC agent could remind me that while a sack of spinach for $2 is a steal, it only counts if I actually bring myself to eat it. She would provide the tough love necessary to keep me from buying a vat of red licorice at Costco and calling it dessert. She would give me a shot at turning into Judy, who is going to Costa Rica for two weeks in December while I stay here and try to figure out how to stall the cable payment until after the holidays.

Bring on the CCCC. Any volunteers?

— Kimberly Marlowe Hartnett