As a born and raised Midwesterner, nothing speaks to my heart like a good deal.
Coupons, promo codes, BOGO, clearance stickers, and Facebook Marketplace finds that are a fraction of the price of the real deal are my love language.
Want to show me that you care? Let me know about a sale that’s about to start soon.
Even secondhand saving is exciting to me. Did you get that sectional at 80 percent off retail? Tell me all about it. I’ll be just as pumped as you are.
Find the perfect pair of cowboy boots in just the right half-size on Craigslist? I’ll gladly accompany you to pick them up from the seller.
What’s the catch?
Of course, when there’s a good deal, there’s always a catch.
Last month, our van died 10 days before our family vacation.
I scoured the Internet for cars and even test-drove some. They were beautiful, but pricey.
But then one afternoon, the Internet served me up the needle in the haystack: A low-mileage car that looked brand new but came with a used car price tag.
It was love at first sight of the listing.
The car was in Chicago. I’d have to drive down there to check it out in person. My husband wasn’t able to come with me on that particular day when I absolutely could not wait any longer because the listing said that it was a “rare find!” that “wouldn’t last long!” I needed to get it immediately!
Before I left, he asked, “Why do you think it’s so cheap?”
“Because it’s a rare find!” I said.
But I thought about his question for the two-hour ride down to the dealership.
Why was it such a good deal? Was there something wrong with it? I wouldn’t know until after I’d driven 150 miles to find out.
After an unsettling drive, I turned into the used car lot. A salesman greeted me and walked me to the car.
“Here it is!” He gestured grandly to the vehicle.
And there it was. Just as I’d seen it on the website. Gleaming, pristine, hardly a scratch on the paint, just as I’d thought — except for the roof, which had a rectangular orange work light drilled into it.
Shocked, I checked the listing on my phone, certain that the dealership had cropped the light out of the photos. But no, there was the light, plain as day. I hadn’t seen it past the price.
I sighed, then test drove the mid-sized SUV. Compared to our van, it felt like driving a Ferrari. I was hooked.
When I parked, I pressed the button on the ceiling and admired the authoritative lights flashing on top, in front, and back of the car. Maybe we could work with it. I brought it home.
If you’re looking for me, I’ll be tailing construction crews, monitoring state parks, and delivering mail in the country in my new car.
Too good to be true?
The something-for-nothing siren called for me again last week as I was killing time in a store until a football game.
I naively struck up a conversation with a salesman who was selling $49 vacations.
After almost falling for the sales pitch, I ended up telling him, “I value my marriage. I can’t sign anything.”
He sent me home with the brochure, complete with the math of how this vacation would save us $2,400.
Once at the football game, I slid into the bleachers next to my husband and proudly shared that I did not sign us up for a $49 vacation. I did pass him the brochure because I wanted to see if his interest was piqued, too.
A trip for eight to Arizona for the price of two lunches out? It was a good deal!
He squinted in the dim light of the scoreboard at the pamphlet plastered with beachfront hotels, then turned it over and ran his finger along the microscopic text on the bottom.
“Price dependent on product purchased. It’s only $49 if you buy something really expensive, like a timeshare.”
In under eight seconds, he’d found the “catch.” That $49 vacation might have actually cost us tens of thousands of dollars when all was said and done.
The best ‘rare find’
I suppose I’m beginning to see that, really, there’s no such thing as a free lunch, as my dad used to say.
But there is one deal I’m certain is actually a “rare find!” That’s the grace found in the sacraments, the very life of God offered to us in exchange for nothing more than our hope and trust in Him.
No catch. No promo code needed. No purchase necessary. Just the promise of eternity with perfect Love if we follow Him.
To me, that sounds like everything for nothing.
Meg Matenaer is a wife, mom, social media writer, and author residing in the Diocese of Madison.