nyj40: the books-for-booze barter system (and other cheap ways to stoke denial)


Unemployment breeds creativity (at least if you have as much debt to keep repaying as I do). So far I've managed to maintain my one-a-day latte habit with the $30 espresso maker I bought more than two years ago at Target. But my pesky fondness for that other kind of buzz ain't so easy to indulge.

A few weeks ago at a Tuesday-night home fellowship group (like a kind of small Bible study), I lamented a poverty that didn't even allow to buy a six-pack of beer (strangely expensive here in the city. I swear that back "home" you can buy 'em for less than $8 ... but maybe that was when the milk still went for only $2/gallon). Later in the evening, in a completely unrelated conversation, I recommended a book to the host's wife and then offered to bring her my copy the next time.

"I tell you what," she said. "If you bring it, I'll give you a six-pack of beer." My eyes lit up like a patriotic sparkler, and I rummaged in my bag for paper on which to write myself a reminder note.

The following week, I returned to the study with not one, but two books pertinent to what we'd discussed. I didn't hope to get twice the booze; I felt bad for bringing her a book I wanted back. The second book was actually an extra copy, so I felt it evened things out.

When I pulled out the books at study's end, Judy laughed and then went to her fridge. A few minutes later she returned, looking slightly sheepish. "I'm not sure if you're going to like it," she warned, "but sometimes my husband likes to go beer-slumming." That week was a drinking-the-drink-of-the-masses week, so he had 4 bottles of Natural Light. Rounding out my possible 6-pack were 2 bottles of cider. Tempting, but ...

"I think I'll take a raincheck," I said.

"Unless..." Judy's eyes wandered to the wine-rack in the corner, which I suddenly remembered as empty except for a Yellow Tail label!

"Wine? I'll take it."

It was probably a better deal for her, anyway — and I had no objections. At $6-$7 a bottle, Yellow Tail's a better deal than most local 6-packs and currently one of my favorite wines.

Leaving Brooklyn Heights later, I clutched the bottle carefully, warding off ominous visions of suddenly slippery hands from which the bottle would slowly slide, only to drop, crash, splash all my carefully won wine onto the sidewalk. By the time I reached the subway platform, my obsessive caution probably rivaled Gollum's. It was clutch the bottle with my sweaty fingers, or set it down upon the stable platform — from which I suddenly feared the hands of a never-before-seen subway thief would clutch the precious bottle in a brazen act of larceny. I opted to hold it.

Finally the train arrived, and 5 stops later I was greeted by the familiar turquoise walls of Prospect Avenue. But as I climbed the steps to surface, I was momentarily distracted from my vigilance over the bottle. Now that I have passed the expiration date of that final 30-day subway pass, train trips are a rather costly matter: no less than $4 round trip. Considering $4 also buys a week's worth of latte milk, I lately tend to overthink my trips.

And stare avidly at subway stairs. They seem to be a collecting place for subway cards. Occasionally when the stairs are empty of people, I furtively grab a yellow card from dirty step and stash it away until the next check-your-value station. I imagine I could have to fight it out with a subway-swipe scammer for this possible gold. But so far those of whom the in-train posters warn, the underground cousins of the dumpster-diving set ready to sell you an illegal swipe with their grimy cards, have proved as absent as the cards with actual value. Apparently most people really do mean to drop their cards. My would-be scavenging leaves me picking up litter and finding nothing.

Fortunately the other day a journey through old papers in search of phone bills unearthed a slim, windowed envelope from WageWorks. "Oh my God," I breathed.

"What?!!" my roommate exclaimed from the other room.

I tore open the envelope, whose sealed flap confirmed my hope. Sometimes I just forget to throw away trash, intending to put it in with the paper recyclables. But this particular envelope hadn't even been opened. Which meant it contained ... the last of my pre-paid Metrocards! I couldn't believe it. "It's like I just found $70!" I exclaimed. "No more rationing train trips!"

Instead I've turned to delaying the inaugural use of the card as long as humanly possible. Friday night I walked nearly five miles home from a dinner on Houston Street, saving me $2. Hey, it was a good night for walking. And I now hold claim to walking across not two, but three of Manhattan's bridges. (For the record, the Manhattan is the noisiest.)


Postscript
When I'm not so fixated on subway trips, I plot cheap ways to rack up MyPoints. MyPoints is a nifty shop-n-click service I registered with several years ago. You sign up to receive offer emails based on stuff you're into (and might buy). For every email you click on, you get 5 points. Points for responding to offers, such as shopping at Barnes and Noble, " target="NewWindow">VistaPrint or OfficeDepot net you varying amounts of points — sometimes as many as 2,500. You also gain points for taking surveys. For 2,750 points, you can claim a $25 B&N gift card (though rewards come in smaller increments than that — as few as 750 points). Not long ago I redeemed my points for a $50 Macy's card I'll probably use to buy a replacement bed (that's another story). Over the years I'm sure I've earned a few hundred dollars worth of stuff through MyPoints.

If you're a freebie-freak like me, check it out. And if you don't mind doing a friend a favor, put my username (DANZFOOL) in the referral box if you sign up.

posted @ 06:35 AM on Mon - July 19, 2004 remark! Email |  as quoted:
before I said ...  but more recently: 

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