When I was 10, I went to live with my grandparents in Fort Worth. I lived there on and off until I was 15. During those formative 5 years, I "studied" under my grandmother, heretofore known as The Most Frugal Person in the World, and I learned how rich people become rich: they never spend any money.
Grandmother was born in 1929, and the Depression made an indelible mark on her that would later manifest in the form of quirky practices like exclusively hand-washing clothes, scouting 10 garage sales a week, asking her banker to make all her personal photocopies, attending any and all grand openings (samples and raffles, duh!), and only grocery shopping with triple coupons. (In fact, she was an extreme couponer before extreme couponing was cool - if you need toothpaste, laundry detergent, or lipstick for the next 20 years, there's a stash in her garage with your name on it.) For 5 years, I was subjected to those rituals among many others, and I won't hesitate to say the word I most commonly associate with that time period is
mortified.
Fast forward. By all accounts, I proceeded to grow up normally, paying full price for most things and always enjoying a good sale. But every once in a while...a little piece of the past flares up...and the next thing you know...I'm shopping at the bread outlet.
I imagine most of you don't know that bread outlets exist because your family wasn't hell-bent on making puberty as difficult for you as possible. If that's the case, they're exactly what they sound like: small storefronts, usually in not-so-awesome neighborhoods, that contain discounted bread from a major brand. The closer the bread is to its expiration, the cheaper it is. But most of it is anywhere from 3 days to a week away from expiring, and it's all 50% or more off.
The Most Frugal Person in the World used to buy all of our bread at the bread outlet. It was one of the few places I didn't absolutely hate going, because it meant I'd get some raisin bread out of it. However, I still managed to push my memory of the bread outlet waaaaay down, right next to consignment store $1 bag sales and forced contest entries at the public library.
Then recently I was running errands in a patchy area of town and saw a sign for Entenmann's Outlet, instinct took over, and I whipped into the parking lot. Could it be what I think it is???
As an adult, I understand that unless you buy the store brand, bread is freaking expensive. And between breakfast and daily sandwiches, we go through a lot. To make matters worse, I try to support our clients at work and (un)fortunately we have a upper-tier bread brand, so now Brian and I spend $4 for a loaf of bread, bread "thins," English muffins, etc. It's delicious but expensive. Not at the bread outlet though!!!!
I was pumped to find that this store actually carried our client's brand, which meant that I could have my bread and eat it too! It was just as I remembered: one-room, crappy signage, and rows and rows of all the types of bread you could want. 12-grain widepan. Onion hamburger rolls. Honey wheat English muffins. Bagel thins. Oh yeah - and for half the price or less. The best part is the counter special - one select product that sits by the register that's marked down to $.50. Did I buy perfectly good multi-grain English muffins for $.50 and then eat them every day for breakfast for over a week? You're damn right I did! Did I go back the next week, buy twice as much bread, and throw half of it in the freezer? Yessiree. Am I wondering if the excitement of the bread outlet is going to unleash all sorts of subliminal crazy? Absolutely. But when you get a month's worth of good bread for $7, it's hard to not think maybe a little crazy could go a long way.
