Impulse purchases, frying pans and ShamWows

When the boys were young, I had a foolproof way of getting through the grocery checkout without caving in to their pleading, outstretched arms trying to snag chocolate or gum or any other child-bait the stores place there, much like a spike belt to stop a speeding car.

I never said yes. Ever.

If you never say yes, they give up. If you deviate from the plan even once, it is a battle you will have to engage in every time. I am a master at training children in grocery stores.

So why am I so stupid when I go into a Canadian Tire?

I will walk in with the express purpose of buying a barbecue or a cutting board.

And I will walk out with two new frying pans, a set of Anchor Hocking bowls (with lids!), a flashlight, a roll of duct tape, tin foil, windshield washer fluid, mosquito torches, light bulbs and anything else they’ve planted in the aisles.

At this time last year, I was tipping my house upside down to shake out everything I owned. I very purposely only put back what I needed or loved, and got rid of decades worth of … stuff.

Stuff that adheres to garage walls and hides in the back of closets and procreates in junk drawers. Stuff that hunkers down in basements. Stuff that sits neglected behind the dishes and mugs you do use, in case the person who gave it to you shows up and you have to pretend you like it.

I got rid of nearly all of it. And Canadian Tire is doing its best to fill my house back up.

I blame four little letters: MSRP. Manufacturer’s suggested retail price.

In the world of commerce, there are some numbers that are completely made up, and you should never believe them. One is the posted fuel economy ratings on new cars. Another is the sizing on baby sleepers.

And the most wild-eyed one of all is the manufacturer’s suggested retail price.

It is why I will buy a new frying pan I don’t need. It is because I can’t resist getting an eighty buck skillet for $22.99. The fact I know the $80 price was summoned out of thin air doesn’t matter.

I’m getting this spectacular new pan that is coated with the enamel of a velociraptor’s teeth and the moment I get it home I will conveniently forget I’m clutching a $20 pan and believe I now own an $80 one. I own no such thing, but the only way to justify the armload of crap I just brought home is to believe I got a deal that really was too good to pass up.

Whether I’m looking for a treadmill or a toaster, I can always get one half off the MSRP. This is not a coincidence, it’s a conspiracy. Our brains are so programmed to be lied to that we’ve reached the point where the seller barely has to bother with the BS: I’ll fill in the blanks and sell it to myself with all the sincerity of that joker who told me I could buy a single ShamWow for $10, or sixteen for just $2 more.

I don’t troll through malls for fun, and I only order things on line that I need. If I could just steer clear of the aisle temptations at Canadian Tire, I might have a chance of keeping this place tidy.

Except for duct tape. You can never have too much duct tape, whether it’s on sale or not.