Bane of Bargain Counter.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVI, Issue XXI, 25 May 1901, Page 998

Bane of Bargain Counter.

A wealthy man in one of our cities proposed an arrangement to his wife the other day, whereby he agreed to pay her a premium of one-fourth of its value upon every article which she bought for herself or for the house, on condition that she should never go into a shop, but order only by sample or from advertisements or catalogues. 1 propose it,” he said, "as a measure of economy. 1 never go into a big shop myself without buying something I didn't intend to. If you never enter a shop you will never see a bargain; and it is cheaper to pay one-fourth more for everything you buy than to have you indulge in bargains.” lie was a business can, and a severely practical one, and he knew what he was talking about. There may be men and women who can go a shop to buy a certain speeia, Ching, and who are single-minded enough to pass by a dozen counters full of flamboyant bargains without once yielding to temptation. But such stern souls are rare, and the shop keeper who first invented bargains knew human nature well. The "special” for the day is the bait that allures the customer. Once inside the shop the rest is easy. “Facilis est descensus Averni." Having bought an article worth 10/ for 6/10, the temptation to use the money thus saved in buying another article reduced is impossible? to resist. By this time all restraint isf lost, and the shopper keeps on untile the purse is empty, and then goes! home to repent, mayhap, at leisure—"

but to do it again next time without fail. The only remedy is to keep out of shops on bargain days. Even Ulysses, the wisest of the ancient tlieeks. the prudent man par excellence, could not rely upon his own self-control when he came to pass the rocks of the Sirens, but had himself tied to the mast and wax stuffed in his ears to shut out their fatal song. Ulysses never saw a bargain counter, but if he had, he would have drawn the ropes tighter and poked in the wax with a firm hand, we may be sure. We do not save, then, by haunting the bargain counter. But is there not a graver side to it? Why is a bargain a bargain at all? Most bargains are only so-called; we get an inferior article for the inferior price. But when we really buy a thing below price, it invariably means, if we stop to think, that some one —either producer or middle man—has lost money on it. Bargains come from the sweat shop, or from the bankrupt, or from the struggling factory worker, or the losing merchant. They are distinctly against the golden rule. They cheapen our moral sense. We ought to be willing to pay a fair price for things or go without them—that is, if we really want the wretched industrial conditions of to-day to develop into better ones. The bargain is a personal mistake and a sociological sin. It is undeniably seductive—but ought we to succumb? o o o o o