Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [44]
I am not the worst culprit in North America (not by a long shot, given what has happened of late), but I have done my share to perpetuate our debt-driven economy.
All of this is simply a preface to my assertion that I knew Frugality would prove to be one of the most difficult aspects of Franklin’s course of virtues for me. I had no doubt that my table of vices would be filled to overflowing by the end of the week. At the same time, it presented unique opportunities. Like Order, it presented a real visceral opportunity for improvement. Frugality speaks of the concrete. Spend less money—what could be simpler?
And there is more here than even Order offered. All of the virtues up to this point could be slanted in a manner that allowed for success no matter your (my) actual accomplishment. Frugality, on the other hand, at least if taken literally, is very specific. Did you make no expense other than that which would benefit you or others? Do the math. I have nowhere to go but up.
A Day of Tea Bags
On the night before Frugality began, as I was getting ready for work, I considered how I might put Frugality to work immediately.
Unfortunately, the best I could come up with was tea bags.
On most days, like millions of North Americans, I begin my workday with a cup of steaming coffee purchased at a price far greater than that paid to the producer and contained in a cup that is slowly killing our planet. But today, on the first day of Frugality, I would break the iron grip of java, strike a blow for Al Gore, and brew my own tea. A simple plastic baggy (must remember to reuse that—Al would be mad if I didn’t) full of tea bags transported to my work would help avoid my inevitable purchase of a coffee at our local canteen. I loaded the bag the night before Day 1 and set it on the counter for the next morning.
Michelle, ever observant of my behavior, looked at the tea bags, then fixed me with one of those glares that said, “I know what you’re doing. Watch yourself.”
In the morning, as I gathered up my stash of tea, I mentioned that Frugality was the virtue of the week. Michelle pointed at me as if I had admitted my part in the Kennedy assassination and said, “Aha! I knew it.” She shook her finger.
I am trying, I explained to her. I am being Frugal, I told her proudly, because Ben says that we should make no expense but that which will benefit ourselves or others. Michelle turned away, a slightly sad look on her face, and said, “So it takes some dead guy to tell you what I’ve been trying to tell you for fifteen years? That’s a little hard on the ego.”
As she walked away, I was reminded of a mantra taught to me by an old girlfriend. This might be a good time to say it. Ready? Here goes:
“Men are stupid!”
I knew my wife had been telling me for years to be more careful with money. How could I not know? She tells me nearly every day. So did I throw her a bone and give her credit for my attempted change? Nooooo. I gave all the glory to a guy two hundred years past caring.
“Men are stupid!”
If you forget this little ditty, just ask the nearest woman. Many know it by heart.
Notwithstanding my wife’s slight bitterness at Ben’s influence on my life, I trundled off to work secure in the knowledge that I had at least taken a first step in being more frugal. It took some will-power, upon arriving at my office, not to make my usual trip to the cafeteria to buy a coffee and muffin. But I was able to refrain, saving $1.87 and enough fat content to add an extra hour to my life.
As I contemplated my newfound, if modest, Frugality, I filled the electric kettle Michelle had long ago purchased and plugged it in to await the first concrete benefit of Ben’s fifth virtue. And then I learned my second lesson for the day: Kettles don’t always work. The concrete, tangible benefit of this virtue, within my grasp only