I have a love/hate relationship with coupons.

The love angle is a no-brainer, right?  Who doesn't love a good deal?  And yet I fail miserably in the coupon department, as evidenced by the sad looks and mournful whispers the checkout clerks and other shoppers share when I answer a meek ‘no’ to the ‘Ma’am, do you have any coupons today?’ question. 

OK, so I've always been intrigued by the whole coupon concept.  How difficult can it be?  Well, if you watch TV, very difficult.  Perhaps you've seen show’s like TLC’s “Extreme Couponing”, the premise being that (mostly) women give up 30+ hours a week in pursuit of the “deal”; achieved by - but not limited to - dumpster diving for tossed coupons; studying department stores, sale prices and market trends; visiting online blogs and websites (think something akin to stock market insider trading); clipping and organizing coupons into binders only slightly smaller than the IRS tax code; compiling lists and spreadsheets; enlisting the aid of a few relatives; grabbing multiple carts and clearing shelves of 100 packs of ramen, 50 sports drinks and 67 packs of chewing gum; after which they completely ruin a store clerks day by entering their checkout lane and require a half hour conferral with the store manager involving a cash register override, to finally pay $1.23 for said items that they load into their car, take home and store in their basement that looks suspiciously like a bomb shelter.  (I’m kidding about that last part.  Sort of.) 

Well, I’m always left pondering the question – unless you’re a starving college grad student with a bad case of halitosis, who wants to purchase 100 packs of ramen, 50 sports drinks and 67 packs of chewing gum, even if you can save 20K a year?!  And have you noticed that sports drinks always feature prominently in the show?  It’s like Gatorade owns a stake in TLC.  My interest is always piqued when they film the triumphant shopping wizard seated in their bomb shelter basement in front of a dazzlingly stellar array of high priced laundry detergent, cleaning products, feminine hygiene supplies, and cereal – but never show how they scored such expensive brand name items.  My favorite episode featured a mom who actually padlocks her trove, because in her words, her teenagers would ‘clean her out’.  Interesting concept – you buy food very cheaply, but don’t want those pesky rascals sharing your domicile to actually eat it.  You gotta admit she’s committed (and yes, there’s more than one meaning to that turn of phrase).  But I digress.

OK, the other week I got adventurous and clipped a .25 cent coupon for mustard, carefully checked all the sizes and expiration dates, remembered to stow it in my purse, went to the store, and there in the space where the bottles of mustard would have stood shoulder to shoulder was…nothing.  Dust.  Turns out an extremer had wiped them out, probably during the night.  30 bottles.  Gone.  I chose the only option available to schlubs like me - I bought the store brand and used the diligently cut, carefully carried, and now completely worthless name brand coupon to throw away my gum (sorry, single pack purchase). 

So, hard core couponing?  I’m out.  I dumpster dove once for a lost retainer on a lunch tray – been there, done that, not going back, not even for 100 packs of ramen.  Add to that I detest clipping, downloading, researching, driving, finding, cart stowing, purchasing…usually to be rejected at the last minute.  How?

Well, by the coupon experience I loathe the most…the fine print-or as Groupon cheerily call it the ‘in a nutshell’ rules.  You know what I mean.  Limit one per person, per visit, every other Tuesday, but not Tuesdays that fall in months that end in “Y”, “R”, or “L”.  Can’t be combined with other offers.  Can’t be uncombined.  Can’t be used with friends, enemies, children, grandparents or strangers; good at every store but the one in your city; must be over 21 but under 22 years of age; and my favorite ‘has no value’ (except in time wasted and crushed dreams). 

Looking to capture the coupon challenged or just plain disillusioned crowd, savvy marketers have created even new and more insidious ways to coupon without actually couponing – the “10 for 10” scam.  You've seen the deals; buy 7 boxes of cereal and save a dollar per box (though I guarantee you there will only be 6 boxes of each cereal type on the shelf); purchase 10 packages of hot dog buns for $10.00 – otherwise pay $1.39.  C’mon peeps, unless you’re the Duggar Family of “19 Kids and Grandkids and In-laws and Counting” fame, how could you possibly use 10 packages of hot dog buns before they turned into your latest attempt at homegrown penicillin?  Sometimes I wonder as an empty nester if I should stake out the grocery store parking lot and then follow the family with largest brood into the store and try to cut a bargain – “Psst, lady, wanna make a deal?  You buy 9 buns, I’ll take just 1, here’s my dollar.” My luck I’d get arrested as a stalker – “honestly, officer, I just wanted one of her buns.”  Hmmm.

So, mostly for me it’s full price…except for Kohls.  Kohl’s Department store keeps me in the coupon groove.  They renew my hope of the deal and the thrill of the sale.  My secret?  Hubby has developed an uncanny knack of consistently peeling 30% off coupons for Kohls.  Like every month.  Really.  The last time I peeled one of the mailers was two years ago – and it was the last 15% coupon we received.  I haven’t even touched a mailer since.  If I see one in the mailbox I leave it there, worried that I’ll kill the 30% magic.  Hubby rubs his hands, blows on his fingertips, and with a flourish peels back the Holy Grail of coupons.  I tremble at the thought…reduced…on sale…on clearance…with 30% off…boom, baby.

So, sorry – no ramen for me.  But next time we’re together, lemme show you my latest haul from Kohls.  Too bad they don’t sell hot dog buns.