Deal of the Century

Eons ago, when I was but a small lad, my father, out on a grocery shopping expedition, came across an extra large (32 ounces, I believe) container of Plochman's mustard. This particular condiment, which was being offered for sale at an obscenely low price, was promptly purchased, brought home, and dubbed with the grandiose title "Deal of the Century."

I never found out how much my father paid for that mustard (the most popular guess-never confirmed-was $0.49), nor did I actually ever taste it. My unfortunate brother sampled the stuff, and based upon his reaction, we concluded that the Plochmans, albeit likely a very nice family, did not possess any particular mustard-making skill.

Alas, the "Deal of the Century" turned into something of an albatross around our family's collective neck, mocking us from its position on a high shelf in our walk-in pantry.

As was the case when we found ourselves with a surplus of C&C Root Beer, my father was forced to reprise his "desperate salesman" role. At just about every meal over the next few months, meat or dairy, we were offered Plochman's mustard. It didn't work. That mustard container continued to gather dust, and the "Deal of the Century" had now become an unmitigated disaster.

Perhaps we should've tried to create a "pool" of mustard, containing several brands, and sold bonds representing that "blended" mustard. We could've referred to these financial instruments as Mustard-Backed Securities or MBSs (and you thought that "MBS" stood for "Mortgage-Backed Securities. Silly reader). Alas, there were relatively few hedge funds in those days, so there was a dearth of geniuses to whom we could sell these bonds.

Given my family's unfortunate experience with that container of Plochman's mustard, I've generally been loathe to label anything the "Deal of the Century." Today, however, I came across a deal that severely tested my resistance to using that label.

I walked into a Quick Check store near my workplace, intending to purchase a 32 ounce, diet, carbonated, caffeinated soft drink produced by an Atlanta-based company. Typically, such a beverage sells for $0.99 ($1.06 after tax), which is an excellent price to begin with. However, when I got to the cash register, I was informed that Quick Check is currently conducting a promotion called "Happy Hour" (how original!), which takes place between 3PM and 7PM, Monday through Friday. During "Happy Hour" 32 ounce fountain soda is half price. In other words, this refreshing 32 ounce beverage would be mine for the magically low price of $0.53. Fifty-three cents! Sure, when my parents were young, that amount could buy you two loaves of bread, a pastrami sandwich, a newspaper, two queen-size mattresses, a tank of gas and six egg creams and a small donkey. Nowadays, though, paying 1.66 cents per ounce for soda is an awfully good deal.

The nice thing about this deal is that it can be replicated several times. In fact, over the coming days, that's precisely what I intend to do. If need be, I will bathe in Diet Coke. Sure, that doesn't sound too appetizing, but at least it beats attempting to avoid making eye contact with the Plochman's mustard container every time I raided the pantry.