Nothing lasts. They don’t make things like they used to. There’s no such thing as quality anymore.
Any of this sound familiar?
I’ve had my own gripes and complaints about the value of certain items and having to pay exorbitant amounts of money for ‘good quality’ only to have something ruined, fall apart or stop working.
I had two such instances today. The bathroom sink we just brought home was chipped. It was obviously damaged before it was even shipped to the store because it was packed securely and protected. This is hubby’s hypothesis. No argument here.
I guess it’s our fault. We saw a great bathroom sink at a different, more expensive shop for twice the amount of money. Same style, WAY different price.
We decided on buying the cheaper one to save some money. I won’t say which store we ended up at, but it was one of the big box stores.
So now guess what? Seeing as this cheaper version is ruined anyway, we’re actually going to order the porcelain sink from the other store and cross our fingers that it is more durable than this ‘cultured marble’ crap sink we brought home.
Before I tell you the second thing that happened to me today, let me tell you why I personally think there is no such thing as quality anymore and why I’m soooooo very reluctant to spend a lot of money on practically anything.
Here’s a for instance. About six months after my youngest was born, hubby’s stepmom took me to a hoity toity lingerie Shoppe to grab a new bra that fit properly. After breastfeeding three boys, age and gravity, my old bras didn’t fit much anymore.
What old bras? After being pregnant and having babies for about four years straight, my ‘old bras’ were barely holding together anymore!
Anyway, she took me to this great place; I was measured and ended up with a lovely bra. Plain. Classy. Comfy.
Say what? For something that even my husband doesn’t see? Seriously?
But it was a gift and she really wanted to do this nice thing for me. So I went along with it.
I took such great care of that over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder.
I hand washed it for about the first month. The saleslady said it would hold up to machine washing, but to never put it in the dryer. And I lived by those words. Soon I ended up throwing it in the laundry, but I was incredibly diligent about not ever putting it in the dryer.
Six months later it fell apart.
Do you know how many bras I could buy at Wal-Mart for $80? About three or four. Just saying.
So that’s where I stand. I buy cheap stuff.
Hey, I’m a stay-at-home mom. Think I’m out buying designer duds at the mall? H to the E to the double L – NO! Superstore and Wal-Mart baby.
This brings me to my second incident today about how things just don’t last.
I was hopping in the van after picking up our sink today and RIIIIIP!
My jeans ripped! Right in the crotchal area!
Okay, it might have been a little teensy weensy bit worn down from my thighs rubbing together (know how snow pants sound? Let’s just say I don’t wear cords).
But did I sweat it? Nope. I bought those jeans probably close to two years ago at Zellers for under $40. I’m good. Seeing as they’re pretty much my daily uniform (jeans/yoga pants, hoody, runners), I figure I definitely got my money’s worth.
Rest in peace, pants.
Everyone repeat after me (I would ask you to bow your heads, but it’s hard to do when you’re trying to read the computer screen):
My jeans, who art in heaven,
Gloria Vanderbilt be thy name.
Give us this day our daily protection from muffin top and camel-toe.
And forgive us our mom-jeans,
as we forgive those who wear floods.
And lead us not into low-rise jeans,
but deliver us from armpit-high denim.
For thine is the fashion,
the power and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.
Ah. I feel better now.
My love/hate relationship with jeans has been an on-going battle for many years now. There are too many wardrobe malfunctions to mention, but here are a couple of highlights for ya:
Picture this; I was in high school and had a tremendous crush on a boy in a band. He had longer hair and was a fantastic musician and was kinda cute too! He was in a grade higher than me and didn’t know me from a fly on the cafeteria french fries. But I mustered up the courage one day to talk to him in the hallway and let him know I thought he did a great job during his last performance. He thanked me and I walked away, only to discover my fly was down.
You don’t recover from that! How do you bounce back from that?
Then I had my first actual grown-up job downtown in oil and gas and the office social committee organized a curling evening for everyone. I’ve never curled in my life (which I think might disqualify me as a true Canadian in some rule book somewhere). I thought I’d get in a practice run before the event started up. And I ripped my jeans. Crotchal area again.
You’d think I’d get a raise.
Come to think of it, shortly after that incident, I did get a promotion though. Hmmm…
Just last year or the year before, we were out camping, hanging out a lot at the firepit in our lawn chairs, relaxing.
Again, a rip all the way down my crotch. In full view of anyone else across the firepit from me. I didn’t even realize it until we were on our WAY HOME the NEXT DAY!!!
Granted, I’m not usually staring at other people’s privates, but when you’re wearing jeans with white ginch, it becomes glaringly obvious when you have a hole in your pants.
Maybe my pants would stop ripping if I paid more for them. But seriously, with these thighs, and the friction that goes on when I’m wearing jeans, I’m not taking the chance. I could burst into flames! I refuse to fork out $100 or more for denim that isn’t fire-retardant. End of story.
It’s like my wine glasses. They do the trick, they serve their purpose. They’re from Canadian Tire. No, sorry. Those are my old old glasses. They lasted me about 10 years. My new ones are from Wal-mart. I think it was twelve glasses for $20. Done. Think I cried when I broke two of them about a month after buying them? Not so much!
Then there are things that you need to spend good money on. Like tires. Windshields? Maybe.
I can’t remember how much we spent on our last windshield, but it lasted a week on these silly Calgary roads before a semi truck threw a rock at my van and cracked the window. And of course it was winter time so the cold air had the crack spreading all across my view-line in no time.
Our current windshield was purchased just last summer. We drove two days out to Pemberton, B.C., drove to Vancouver and all the way back to Calgary without a scratch. Ten minutes away from the Calgary city limits, a HUGE rock got us.
It doesn’t pay, it doesn’t pay. So frustrating.
There are things I flat out refuse to pay a lot of money for.
Gloves for the boys. They don’t last a month in this house. I have a bunch of gloves – they just don’t match.
Toys. That’s what family and especially grandparents are for! These guys are so hard on their stuff, I don’t buy anything nice for them. Doesn’t that sound horrible? If you have boys in your life, you know what I mean though.
So as a consumer, what do you do?
Even down to the cat food. I agonize over buying the expensive foods because I hear that if I don’t buy the good stuff now, I’ll pay for it in vet bills down the road.
But if these cats don’t stop scratching my nice duvet cover and bed skirt I bought (that actually was more money than I originally wanted to spend – you’d think it would hold up better), they won’t be around much longer anyway. So why not feed them the Safeway brand of cat goo… I mean food?
Ah, well. Better finish up this post. Gotta help hubby load our sink back into the truck so he can return it and we can go off on another adventure of trying to find something worthwhile to spend our money on.