A shirt and some worries

I bought a collared soft cotton shirt today for the clearance price of$11.95. Aside from the shirt being dark gray instead of dark green, as my color-blind eyes wrongly reported, I was presented with a dilemma at the register.

The clerk offered me free membership in the stores promotional club. Special discounts and coupons awaited me at no charge, he explained. Just supply my name and e-mail on the form they would fill in the rest and off I would go with a plastic card documenting my belonging, as I would head home to anxiously check my inbox for bargains.

That’s when I determined that enough was enough. I already have free membership cards for coffee, submarine sandwiches, the bookstore, grocery store, video store, a Cajun restaurant I can’t even recall existing and a wearhouse where I rented a wedding tuxedo for a marriage that was outlived by my store membership.

I don’t even want to discuss the weight of my wallet, thanks to all the plastic cards, punch cards, cardboard cards and keychain cards.

All these clubs make shopping unnecessarily stressful. Every time I buy I have to ask myself, Am I a member? Do I have a card to prove it? Can I save 10 percent? Do I qualify for special discounts? Is it my birthday? Am I amidst the magical three-day window that falls only once a quarter where I can save big time? I don’t know. Perhaps I am a member and I threw away the card and now that silly act just cost me $3.50.

I opted to decline the latest membership offer that came with my collared soft cotton shirt. Its just one more thing to worry about, one more thing to take up valuable space in my head. I simply don’t have room in my life or my wallet for another card.


Epilogue

The same shirt that came with the enticing store membership offer also came with a spare button. I always keep these buttons for some reason, usually putting them in the same drawer as my socks. I do this despite never having had a shirt that has lost a button. Ever. Even if I had a shirt lose a button, I doubt I would have the wherewithal to find the replacement that came with the original shirt, two years after its purchase.

I decided to lose the spare button immediately this time, directly into the trash. Like the membership, it would be one more thing to stash in the back of my head, if the slim opportunity ever arose for the button to be used. I just don’t have room for that button. Not in my life, or in my sock drawer.