Four Dollar Conversation

***This is loosely based on a conversation I had with my girlfriend once***



“What the hell? You just bought that?” he said.

“What?” Kate said.

“The freaking Pillsbury pie cookbook. It cost four dollars,” he said.

“Yes, I did just buy that and I think it was worth it.”

They learned so much in Automatic Millionaire about how to save hundreds of dollars a year by eliminating such worthless purchases. “Automatic Millionaire, Kate,” was all he said.

“Oh Bryce, get a grip. It has a lot of good recipes in it.”

“Four bucks down the drain.”

“Don’t try to make me feel bad for buying the recipe book.”

“Well, if you wanted to buy it, then fine, but it was a spur of the moment purchase and a stupid one, one that you certainly didn’t think much about.” It wasn’t his four dollars. What did he care?

“Bryce, I am going to have this for the rest of my life. Four dollars spread out over the rest of my life isn’t bad.” That thing was not going to last four years. It was ten flimsy pages, stapled twice, and folded in half.

“I’ll give it a few years. Then…sayonara,” he said.

“I am glad I bought it, and you are going to be glad I bought it when I bake you some pie.”

He grabbed the book and thumbed through the pages. “Ahhh, the pictures don’t look too good Kate. Look at this Sweet Potato Pie. It looks like molded puke.”

“Gross Bryce! Just give it up will you?”

“No, I won’t. You know how many random four dollar purchases you could make in a lifetime if you keep on going like this? Let’s say…one crazy, four dollar purchase a week. That is sixteen bucks a month…one-hundred and ninety-two a year. Add that up and put it in a mutual fund with ten percent annual interest. WOW!”

Okay people, Kate thought, he really isn’t this crazy all the time. “Look at this one, you would like it. It has strawberries and blueberries. Tell me you wouldn’t like that?”

“I wouldn’t like blueberries with strawberries, just strawberries. And look at this, cranberry tartlets? Are you kidding me? Tartlets? They just made that word up for this recipe book,” he said.

“It is a word, Bryce.”

“Oh, well, ya know what I mean? A word that is used once a year when couples are arguing about the Pillsbury Pie Recipe Book.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The word is as useless as the four-dollar cookbook.”

“We will see about that. I am going to make the chocolate mousse cheesecake when we get back to your place.”

“Fine.”