Day 5 of 30: Super duper discount on gorgeous antique wedding rings?

 

A few months back, I outlined the terms of The Wedding Asking Challenge: Try to negotiate every essential component of the grand fete. Exceptions will be made for exceptional values. Money saved will be invested, not turned into sangria the weekend after the wedding. (Actually, that does sound tempting...) Bottom line: I refuse to pay the bridal premium -- to the best of my ability. For, like any lass in love with dusty rose and silk organza, I may end up springing for a few little luxuries just because it's my wedding.

Swooooooon!

A recent objective has been to find wedding rings. I looked online and in department stores including Bloomingdale's. I stepped inside a few insipid chain stores and made a rapid u-turn (Whitehall, Zales and the like) and I spent a good 10 minutes inside one super mega discounter. The lowest price I could find there was $450 for his n' her simple yellow gold bands. Online, Overstock and Amazon had some sets for around $350 with the width and carat that worked. But while Mr. A liked the idea of expedited shipping, I wasn't convinced.

Then Alex, who is half of a fantastic couple Mr. A and I have befriended over the past year, told me where she found her stunning white gold Edwardian wedding band.

The man with the treasure box.

There this antique store in Ocean Beach, a neighborhood in San Diego lined with second hand delights, where a nice man has a treasure box  FILLED with gorgeous rings. Antique rings, diamonds and silver and ruby. 

For INSANELY low prices.

If she were typing, I bet Alex would have used ALL CAPS to convey her devotion to and enthusiasm for this place. So I think it's fair to do the same.

Today, I went in with Mr. A, and her words rang true. It was AMAZING!!

Ken, the ring man, took out the solid little box that must have contained around 300 rings. He told me to take a handful, put them on the counter and sort them into "no" or "maybe." I couldn't believe what I was seeing: An exquisite gold and diamond band for $65. A delicate garnet solitaire on a 14k gold band for a pittance. One ring from the 1890s which I won't describe because it was so beautiful. And so cheap. And so mine. Wait. Wedding bands. Self control. Self control.

Mr. A started valiantly by my side, but after about 70 rings he took off to check out the vintage telephones and gadgets.

Meanwhile, I went through the box and ended up setting aside about 20 "maybe" rings. I separated those into "Not really" "Maybe maybe" "Possible" and "Probable."

Next we looked for matching rings for him, and that further narrowed the options down. All were yellow gold and simple, with at most a milgrain design on the rim.

As I was trying them on again, Mr. A found something unbelievable: a ring from 1880. Inside, the worn inscription read "June 30, 1880" beside two sets of initials.

"I love the 1880s!" I exclaimed. (It meant it. Of all the decades of the 19th century, I have a strong preference for three: the 1830s, the 1850s and the 1880s. For aesthetic reasons, mostly. And a few technological / legal / political reasons, too.)

"My friend in Spain lives in a house from the Roman times. The walls are Roman and the roof was from 1650. So he'd say 1880 is like new. But for these parts, that ring has history," Ken told us.

That ring was also more expensive than the rest -- $195. It still cost less than most rings of that size and weight I'd seen anywhere else, but more than the others in this store. Mr. A found an almost identical band (which would have to be resized, adding an another $30 or so) and we agreed it was time to make the purchase. Which meant it was it time to ask.

"Can you give these to us for a better price?"

"No. I absolutely cannot. On gold, I don't negotiate one bit."

Whaaaaaa?

Ken!? Kenster, Kenerino, my buddy, my friend? We'd been talking for at least an hour about rings, and design, and history, and weddings, and married life, and male/female ring choosing rituals. (FYI: Women spend hours imagining what each ring will say about them, about their relationship, how the ring will sit on their hand at age 80. Men just grab the simplest thing they can, as fast as they can, and hit the door.)

That was the last thing I expected, in the heart of Ocean Beach. This was negotiation central! I'd bargained down things left and right in this neighborhood, for years! But come to think of it, the shopper right before me tried to get the price down on another ring by asking to pay cash and skip the tax. Ken refused.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't negotiate for gold or silver. My prices are already lower than anything else you'll find."

Indeed, as I was inspecting the rings, he mentioned that whatever he pays for an item, he doubles to set his price. The standard jewelry retail markup is five times the wholesale purchase price, not double, said he. "I keep my prices low because I'm not like the other guys. They want to sell you one big ring, once in your life. But me, I know there are anniversaries. And birthdays. And babies coming. I want to be the place you come back to again and again."

Ken seemed to really know his business and love his work. And when he looked into my eyes to answer questions, his gaze was unflinching. I trusted Ken. I wanted to buy my wedding ring from him. I could tell Mr. A felt the same way.

We stepped aside and conferred. There was another set of rings, also lovely, but without that patina. Those other rings fit us perfectly, so we wouldn't have to resize anything. Together, they would be $60 cheaper than the antique set. (Or $90 cheaper, if you counted the sizing.)

"What's $60 over the course of a lifetime? Get the one you want more," Mr. A told me.

"Yes, but marriage is also about being responsible, not giving in to whimsy."

"That's true too. But please, don't hold back because of the price."

I kept trying them on, asking him to try them on, even placing them on his finger myself to see which one slid more willingly, in preparation for that sacred moment in the church...  I just wasn't sure, I wasn't sure... but the more I thought about it, the less I felt I wanted the old, expensive ring...

And then Mr. A shared one more thought: "Actually, I feel that if you want history, you should find it in your family. We will make our own history."

With that, we purchased the rings we preferred. No negotiation, but I am certain we made the right decision.

Closing thoughts:

1) Buyers: Before negotiating, distinguish between emotional/sentimental purchases and impulsive ones.

By 'emotional' I don't mean hormonal or impulse driven, but those that are guided by sentiment, nostalgia, desire, or any other warm and fuzzy feeling. Emotional attachment is worth something. Impulse, not so much.

If the age/year truly mattered in my conception of marriage, then that 1880 ring would have been worth the extra money. But Mr. A's probing comment made me realize what truly matters to us: starting something fresh. I can get something from 1880 -- a map or a book. It doesn't have to be my wedding ring when there's something equivalent in quality and comfort, for less money.

Same goes for any other purchase you ascribe a certain sentimental value to: your first home, the pen you'll be proofreading your novel with, the hotel you stay at the day you accept the Oscar (and other big moments we all routinely face): What matters, truly, and what's just impulse? What connection to that object, experience or service will give you a lasting dividend, and what will fizzle by dawn? Knowing this will help you know when to put your money down and when to walk away.

2) Sellers: When you offer something of true and legitimate worth, not lowering your price can make the buyer value you even more. 

This depends on how you do it. Ken spent a whole hour proving to me, in subtle and obvious ways, that his jewelry is worth every cent. Since he also knows his product is worth every cent, he refused to budge. In a way, that makes me prize the rings even more: I know I got a good deal, because I got a great value.

Lost: One negotiation victory.

Gained: Took one more step toward turning my treasure of a fiance into my husband.

image: ffffound.com

Day 4 of 30: Rule #281 of negotiation: Persevere!!! (And if that fails, grovel.)

My new umbilical cord.

Saturday morning, Mr. A and I had an hour to kill before I was heading to a cupcake tasting and he was going to do some errands. 

"Let's get you a new phone!" he said with the glee of an engineer about to spend the next six hours fondling tiny, shiny smartphones.

"Ok," I answered, with the resolve of a woman determined to make the trip last shorter than an hour.

(My old phone stopped charging and it freezes a few times per day. For the past two weeks I've been holding the charging wire into the phone and pressing it down with my thumb. It was time.)

We went to the Sprint store near our house, and there the decision came down to two Blackberries: the Curve and the Bold. If you ask the experts and forums and chip processors, there's a world of difference between these phones. Screen resolution! Processing speed! Megapixels! Network capabilities!!

But between you and me, they were exactly the same thing, with one exception: the Bold was $200 more, and it had a better keyboard. 

Is a better keyboard worth $200?

I was actually torn, because I type A LOT on my phone. As a reporter, I sometimes take interviews or notes on my Blackberry, if for some reason a notebook isn't accessible or strategic. I tweet for clients, I spend a fair amount of time on Facebook... I get unlimited free text messages -- and I use them. I'm like a tween with a Roth IRA and a house lease.

We quickly checked prices online and saw the Bold was on eBay for $190. Not a great bargaining chip.

"Would you do a better price if I paid cash?"

"I can't do that, sorry!" 

By then J, the salesman, had spent half an hour showing us phones. He really wanted to close the sale. So I said we'll pass, took Mr. A's hand and started walking away.

And then I turned around and quickly asked, "Well what's the best you can do? Because $200 is more than I expected to pay coming in today. But if you can make me a great deal, I will walk away with the phone right now."

"I can't give you a discount on the phone. That's not where I have the option. But here's what I can do: If you stock up on accessories, that's where I can definitely cut you a deal!"

"I'm listening."

"If you buy the car charger, the Bluetooth and the carrying case, then I can do it for..."

Mr. A cut in. "You have a Bluetooth headset. You have two. You never use them." 

But maybe I should get a case, to get a bigger discount? Wait a minute! Buying more things to get a better discount is not the way to save money. I really did not need a case.

"No Bluetooth, and no case. How much is the charger?"

"$35. But if you get the phone, I can give it to you for $20."

"We'll take it."

As J started on the paperwork, I started regretting settling so quickly. $15 off of a $235 purchase? Not bad, but still: I should have asked back. These retorts started buzzing around in my head:

a) "$220 for both is a good place to start, not finish." Smile. "Now how can we get that combo down to $200?"

b) "Thanks, but I'll be honest, I'm not biting yet. That's not even 10 percent off. This is a big purchase -- can you knock off $20 from the phone or charger -- whatever is easier for you?"

c) "$15? How about you throw in the charger for free?"

d) "If you're interested in selling accessories and extras, how about this: If you can give me a 10 percent discount on my bill for the next six months, I will buy the phone and charger at full price."

e) "Is there anything else you can do to bring the price down? Talk to your manager or maybe let me ask him?"

f) "I think we're going to think about it... I just don't have that kind of money after all. Sorry to waste your time!"

Ah! Why did I cave so quickly?!

The transaction was almost done. J finished inputting my info and was about to run my card, when out of nowhere I blurted, "Can you please please please please please please please do the charger for $15? Not $20? I have this compulsive need to negotiate and I feel like $20 off would be so much better."

He looked at me and squinted. Not annoyed, it seemed... just, evaluating...

"Sure. I can do it for $15."

"Oh my god! Thank you!! Do you think I'm the most annoying customer in the world?"

"No. I understand. $200 is a lot to spend on a phone. I understand why you're negotiating."

Gained: $20. (Also, hit my original target of 10 percent off the phone value -- even if it was deducted from the charger.)

Lost: 2 minutes of negotiating: 1:45 in the first conversation, and 15 seconds in the groveling segment.

Reflections:

1) When I told him no Bluetooth and no case, he still gave me a deal on the charger. That shows he was very willing to negotiate. I'm glad I didn't assume buying all 3 was a prerequisite for a discount!

2) I sometimes must remind myself that buying more JUST to get a bigger discount is no deal. I just wanna make that explicit, here, since I almost fell for it.

3) If you don't care how awful you look, negotiating in this style is easy! Not sure how effective in the long run, but this time it worked. If you have an ounce of pride, though, there are ways to be a lot more classy than whining please please please please please please please please! That's something I'll be exploring in the next 26 days of daily asking.

Now it's your turn: I invite you to think of something pricey you'll be purchasing soon (next six months) and leave a comment with one argument you can make for bringing the price down. Regular commenters, I always welcome your contributions! And if you're shy or lurking on the blog, I'd love to hear from you. 

Please please please please please please!

When seeking retail discounts, attitude is everything

I took the day off work yesterday and went shopping with Gem. We had some last minute Christmas presents to find and we wanted to catch up after we each had our share of stories to tell. So after a stop for coffee and tea, we hit a few cute local boutiques.

The first one we stopped in, Pretty Please, had a fabulous array of earrings. As I inspected the offerings I realized I could finish all my shopping right there, at that counter! Gorgeous wares, low effort and a reasonable price? Fa-la-la-la-la!

As I lined them up on the counter, I asked the saleswoman, "If I get a few pairs could you give me a little break? I don't know, whatever price you think is fair."

It was basically reflex, since the prices were already not that bad. Yet I considered that I was buying almost half a dozen, and they were surely marked up enough for the store to make a nice profit.

Why not try?

"How many pairs are you getting?" she wondered.

"Let's see...

One pair for Gem.

One pair for my sister.

One pair for a cousin.

One pair for another friend.

And one pair for... me.

Five pairs. No pressure, just thought I'd see."

"Sure, I can do something."

When she rang me up, my jaw dropped. She gave me four pairs at about 30 percent off, and one pair full price. 

"You are so sweet! Thanks! I almost didn't ask, because I was thinking that the price is great and they're presents, but I figured why not... if you're earning what you want on them and I can stretch my dollars a little, we're both happy, right? Thanks so much! I will totally be back."

"It's totally cool you asked, and I hope you come back soon. You know," she added, "from our perspective it's all about the attitude."

"What attitude?"

"It's how you ask. You were relaxed and friendly. It wasn't like you were expecting it."

"Give me a discount NOW!" I joked.

"Yeah. You were sweet about it. We like helping people who are nice."

Score one more for the smile approach.

For more about attitudes and moods while asking, here's a scientific/statistical write-up from my year of daily asking: http://thedailyasker.blogspot.com/2009/07/ask-o-logy-how-to-ask.html (scroll down to bolded questions 3 and 4.)

For tips on how to ask in a variety of settings, here's a 3-part series, called 44 Easy Asks: http://thedailyasker.blogspot.com/2010/11/44-easy-asks.html

And for a history of earrings, check out the blog where I found that photo: http://professorices.blogspot.com/2005/07/history-of-earrings.html

[image credit: http://professorices.blogspot.com]

Finding your negotiation style

The neighbors have been screaming all morning.

"Mamma! Why do keep asking me 'Where are you going? Who are you meeting?' Stop trying to find out everything about me!"

Muffled sounds from an older woman, and then the shrieks again.

"Maaaaamma! Leave me alone!"

Doors slam.

Silence.

**

A car stops in the middle of a narrow street and waits. And waits and waits. Behind, a line of cars grows. Manual transmission, uphill. Not fun for those drivers. Finally, a man jumps out of his Range Rover, bounds up the hill and starts screaming.

"Who the f*ck do you think you are! What ever gave you the idea that it was ok to park your *ss in the middle of the street and keep the rest of us waiting! Move NOOOOOOW! NOOOOOW!"

The car moves.

Traffic jam: finito.

**

A man tells his business partner:

"Shut up!! Why do you keep butting in? BE QUIET!!!"

The partner obliges.

**

A merchant in a food cart screams at two tourists in a language they don't understand.

"This is the part where I tell you to GO F*CK YOURSELVES! Morons!!"

The couple, German or British, by the looks of them, wander away, confused and suspecting the merchant is upset for some reason.

**

Conflict resolution, Italian style.

I'm in Rome now, and I've been amazed at the amount of yelling that happens in this city. I've been here before -- spent three summers working, and I've come back on vacation a few times since then. But either I hadn't noticed, or I've forgotten, how vocal they get here.

About traffic, and interruptions, and tourists who don't understand they can't pay with a credit card (or who knows what offense that couple committed).

But yelling is one side of the coin. The other side is the soft, subtle 'arranging' Italians do. You help my daughter find work. I'll make sure you get your building permit. Not so much a quid pro quo as loose network of accords, agreements and connections.

Not that different from America, really.

When I finished my year of daily asking and did a statistical analysis of the data, I was interested in a range of practical questions. Is it better to ask impulsively or in a planned fashion? Did I fare better when I was alone or accompanied? Is asking sweetly or aggressively more effective?

(For any newcomers to this blog since then, the results and my take on them are on this page: Ask-o-logy. I'm no statistician, but Mr. A has an advanced degree in a field that lets him spin numbers like taffy. Hint: the posts are in reverse order, so scroll to the end and move up.)

One question that developed in the first few months of asking daily, first subconsciously and eventually quite overtly, was HOW it's best to ask. Of course, the situation may dictate or suggest a method, but were there some modes generally better suited to asking success than others? Here's what I found out: I was far more successful being nice than any other approach.

(more details here). And over time, my personality as an asker developed to play up that feature. Now when I ask, I innately make eye contact, take time to establish a rapport whenever that's possible, and humanize myself and the other party. It makes all the difference.

Now I'm curious about the next frontier: What's my negotiation style? Wheeler and dealer? Charmer? Problem solver? Cooperative team member? Bossy beeyatch? So far, all I know is that I'm an asker who rarely turns No's into Yesses. I can get a discount, but only if I ask and it's given to me. I rarely push back.

That's about to change.

This weekend I'm going to venture to Naples and try my hand at negotiating in one of the city's most dangerous markets. My target: pick up a fake Louis Vuitton purse. I've heard they can sell for as little as 15 euros and look like the real thing. Will I make it? Will I get robbed blind? TBD.

What about you, gentle reader? Thinking about your style as a negotiator -- in personal relationships, professional ones, the commercial and financial worlds you deal in -- what do you think you're style is? What's your greatest weakness, and what's your biggest strength?

[image credit]

Jungle bound

Saturday ayem, I'm taking off to Ecuador!! I'll be there for 10 days, for work/research and, of course, fun! I'm meeting Mojojo and a team of sustainability experts there, and from Quito we're heading down to the jungle.

Which is why:

a) I've been posting rarely. Because I need to get a ton of things done before I leave.
b) I'll be posting rarely, since internet access will be hard to come by.

Meanwhile, here's a blast of asks from recent days.

Two days ago I went to Best Buy to get a camera for the trip. I decided on the Canon G11, since I need a top notch point and shoot for this trip and future projects of this nature.

On my way to the checkout counter, I googled the camera and my zipcode and saw the online price at the same merchant is $449.99.

Easiest ask ever.

"Can you match your online price?"

"Best Buy's online price? Sure!" the cashier said.

Then, as she started to manually override the price, I thought I'd try one more time.

"Actually, could you do $435? It's a work expense, but I'm paying for it out of pocket." (This wasn't totally out of left field - the cashier brought the camera from the locked cabinet and we chatted about what I need it for.)

She said no.

Oh well. Worth a shot.

And still shaved $50 off the sticker price.

[image credit]

Discount on a gas bbq grill? (Part Three)

[image credit]

And now, the conclusion of the grill miniseries.

From Ace Hardware, we were about to drive to Home Depot when Mr. A remembered there is a Lowe's not too far.

We made the short detour, walked to their outdoor department and noticed a similar Weber for the same price. I asked if they could do any kind of discount or had any promotions going on, and the sales man said no. Unlike the Home Depot model, the Lowe's grill was made of slightly inferior material. So that was that. It was Home Depot, round two, or bust.

From the parking lot we spotted them: rows and rows of metallic barbecues on display in front of the store, glimmering in the sunlight like a pack of alluring sardines. Hard, hot sardines that don't swim. But definitely glimmering, and very alluring. Yeah.

We found the model we wanted and I accosted a salesman.

"Hi!"

"Hi."

"I have a question about this grill. We were just at your other Home Depot, and we were about to buy this grill when they told us that they ran out of butane. So we ran over here as fast as we could to get this exact model, since it's exactly what I've been looking for."

[Note: I forgot to mention that at the first Home Depot, before the manager arrived, the cashier informed us they ran out of butane. One more reason to pass on that one. Also this is an important reminder to you, gentle reader, that everything I state here is a product of my memory and far from perfect. I don't voice-record these interactions since under California law I'd have to get consent from the other party. And that would kind of blow my cover.

I try my best to report things accurately, but especially with these less recent askings, I may miss something occasionally. Once I catch up and write about things the day they happen, this should be less of a problem. Onward:]

"Ok, great. So do you want me to ring this up for you?"

"Well, here's the question. We were going to buy the floor model and open a credit card, so they gave us a discount of 10 percent for the floor model, and another discount for the credit card. Do you think you can do the same thing, here? Basically, can you give us a better price?"

"These are already assembled, so I can't give you the floor model discount. You can open a card if you want..."

"Really?" [pained expression...] "Argh. They had given us such a great deal, since we were buying a ton of stuff--the grill, the cover, some tools -- Is there nothing you can do? You do have butane, right?"

"Yeah, it's inside. Ok, here's what I'm going to do. Let me talk to my manager."

"Awesome! Thanks for asking!!"

He came back 10 minutes later with this answer: Since we went to Home Depot to conclude our purchase, instead of to a different retailer, the manager was giving us a coupon for $50 off. "That's better than 20 percent, because he wanted to tell you thanks for your loyalty."

Just. Like. That.

So! Next time someone tells you "I can't give you a discount," remember that might just mean, "I don't want to." It's up to you to determine this. Is it a mom n' pop? Are they barely making ends meet? Or are they a powerful national chain where 10% off is a drop in the bucket?

Ask.

Ask.

Ask.

Ask again.

Ask until you get what you want... need... deserve.

And then pig out!!!!!!!

Discount on a gas bbq grill? (Part Two)

As we drove out of the Home Depot parking lot, I shot Mr. A a sheepish glance.

It's one thing to pursue your principles when you're a lone crusader, but it's another thing when it means you end up dragging an innocent bystander across the city. In search of a gas grill at ground bottom prices, after a long plane ride, on Memorial Day, no less.

"If you want to go back and get it, we still can. Maybe it would have been more practical to just give in and be done with it... it's just a grill," I offered, but heard myself shifting mid-sentence, "but I still think he had the power to help us and didn't want to. But I can drop you off, and keep looking on my own. I don't want to drag you around the city in search of a gas grill at ground bottom prices, after a long plane ride, on Memorial Day, no less."

"No, I get why you held your ground. I mean, yes, it would have been easier. We'd have an grill and we could be making dinner in 20 minutes. But didn't you say there's an Ace Hardware close to home? Let's try it."
"Really!? You want to come?"

"Of course. I love that you're committed to this. I want to see you get a real deal, now."

Lone crusader no longer, I high-tailed it to Ace with Mr. A, where we headed for the grills and asked: Do you have any barbecues besides this tiny camping one?

The answer was no.

"Now what?" I sighed.

Mr. A had an idea. There was another Home Depot about 10 minutes away. Why not give it one more shot? If it didn't work we could always crawl back to the first guys.

Last stop: Check back tomorrow!

[image credit]

Discount on a gas bbq grill? (Part One)

The next three posts, about one day's asks, are on the long side, but here's what I hope you'll get out of reading them: a story about perseverance, negotiation, exasperation, wins and losses, patience and ground beef. In that order.

For my birthday last year, my dad and sister gave me some cash destined for a barbecue. My small house has a small backyard, but it's just big enough for a grill. Most people, given a few hundred bucks for a BBQ, might go to the store, find one within that budget and start grilling asap.

Not the asker.

For almost a year, I searched at hardware and department stores and I scoured Craigslist. I scanned sale circulars in the mail and waited for the best possible value. I got tons of advice. Gift or not, I didn't want their money to be spent on something more expensive than it had to be.

But all year, I was stunned to find that barbecues never go on sale. Like, NEVER. Not in winter, when I was sure they'd be on clearance. Not on Labor Day. I guess that's a drawback of living in permasummery San Diego.

Memorial Day, Mr. A and I flew back from Boston and our first stop (after dropping off the suitcases) was Home Depot. We spotted a Weber Grill with excellent reviews for $399. Once again, no promos or holiday sale, so I asked an employee, and eventually a manger, if we could get a better price.

Here are some of the phrases I used:

"I love the grill, but $400 is above my budget. I was looking to spent $300, because then I have to add in the butane, the tools, the cover. I could go up a little, but $400, plus taxes, plus the butane, it's just too much. Is there anything you can do?"

"Sometimes I know managers have special powers... do you think you could help us bring this price to where we could afford it?"

"If I take the floor model, what kind of discount could you give me?"

"Thanks for helping! You're totally making our summer!"

"A Home Depot credit Card? Sure, if you're willing to go down on the total price by 20%, then I'd consider opening one."

After about 10 minutes of this back and forth (me asking, her checking, me asking, her thinking, me asking, her agreeing), the manager of the grill department set us up with a reasonable deal. The grill was 10% off since we bought the (unblemished!) floor model, plus we'd get 20% off if we opened a Home Depot Card, plus she would give us free butane. We added a grill cover (and some weedkiller) and the total came out to around $450.

Considering just the grill would have been around $450 including tax, that was a fine deal. All the accessories, free, basically.

Only when we got to the register, the store manager told us the new credit card discount is 10%, not 20% and there was no way he could override that. I asked if he had any coupons behind the register and he said no. I asked for the overall store manager, who came after a short wait looking none too pleased.

"Hi," I said and smiled.

"Hi. How can I help you?"

"We would like to buy this grill and all these accessories. I was about to make the purchase when I got some bad news. Robert [the cashier] told us the discount your floor manager promised for opening a credit card isn't 20%, but 10%. That puts this grill out of my price range. So could you please come down on the price, or apply 20% off the whole purchase if we do open a card?"

"Can't do that."

"Oh really? Well is there something else you could to to help us buy this grill? It's a big purchase, and if you could help make it more affordable then I'd be happy to take the grill."

"So you don't want it anymore?"

"Not with just 10% off. We're getting a grill, a cover, all this stuff. It really adds up."

"I can't change the price. I'm not allowed to do that. They check the logs and believe me, at the end of the month I'd get it."

"That's such a pity. Because if you could knock off that 10 percent I would walk out of here with almost $500 in merchandise, I'm sure you'd get a good manager award."

"There's nothing I can do."

Mr. A had been listening in. He's not usually the quiet type -- far from it -- but when it comes to retail activities he backs off because a) I love doing the talking b) I have practice getting discounts c) he realized it's blog material.

But now he pulled me aside and we consulted.

"It's a lot of money, but it's a good grill. We're not going to get a much better deal anywhere else."

"I know, but now it's just the principle. I know he can give us a break. He just doesn't want to. I've been to Best Buy and other big ticket stores, and when you're buying $500 they work with you. They can always do something. Please believe me."

"Ok, no problem, then let's leave it," he said, in a tone that wailed, "Please just buy the damn grill and let's make some burgers!"

"Thank you. Sorry to drag this on, but I know there's a grill out there for us. I just can't reward the manager's behavior with a purchase," I answered, and told the manager coolly that we'd pass.

Part II, coming up next.

[image credit]

An asker and a reader walk into a store...

Saturday morning, (May 22, that is. Still catching up with these reports.) I met up with a reader of this blog. We've traded emails and even had an asking-related phone call when she negotiated her first salary after college. She got wind of my whereabouts and suggested coffee.

Her name, by the way, is Priya, and she rocks.

An hour into our get together, we discovered we have a lot in common: both love Spain, both love writing, both care about the future of journalism, both appreciate a well made cup of joe. I also discovered that Priya is comfortable asking for anything -- a better salary, better opportunities at work, input from colleagues and mentors -- anything except a discount.

"Do you have to be somewhere after this?" I inquired.

"Not immediately, no," she answered.

Fatal last words.

"Well then! Let's ask! You and me, a retail extravaganza. Let's just see what happens. We'll try a few places around here, ask for discounts in a bunch of different ways and then I'll blog about the results. What do you think?"

"Let's do it!"

We established our aim before setting out: I wanted to show Priya how fun asking is and that there's nothing to be afraid of, including rejection. And she was game to try anything as long as it improved her asking skills. And maybe scored some deals!

Here is how our adventure unfolded, as I remember it three weeks later.

STOP ONE: Tourist trap across from Ford's Theater, filled with figurines, flags and flimsy plastic memorabilia.

Target: I spotted a Lincoln Monument replica for $7. It would make a great addition to that pile of crap in the back seat of my car. I have ancient magazines, an extra pair of shoes, an emergency bottle of wine, but no Lincoln Monument figurine!

[image credit]

Approach: Round down a sum. If a book is $5.50, ask if they'll take $5. If it's $43, shoot for an even $40.

Build up: Before we approached the counter, Priya confessed she was nervous. By then I suspected we looked like potential shoplifters. We'd been roaming the tiny store looking for something cheap. We stopped occasionally to exchange hushed comments about strategy, darting our eyes left and right to make sure the cashier couldn't hear us.

"Ok, let me try this first round," I offered. "Just stand next to me and watch. Remember, you have nothing to lose by asking. Even when people say no, they're super nice."

We approached the register and I set Lincoln on the counter.

"Hi! I found a souvenir I like, but I was wondering if I could have this for $5?"

"It's $7," the cashier replied.

"Yes, I saw that, but $5 is more in line with my budget. Would you take $5?"

"No!" she repeated, stupefied.

"$6?"

"Seven dollars!!"

We turned on our heels as the cashier glared at us like the shoplifters we weren't.

Post-game analysis: Well then ---- not how I was envisioning my first asking tutorial to go. What would Priya think? Fortunately, there was an almost identical merchant a few doors down. Time to try a different strategy.

STOP TWO: The Bigger Better Tourist Trap, on a corner. Large, glitsy, with prices to match.

Target: Priya saw a display of towels with White House, Air Force 1 and military logos. "Actually, we need a dish towel!" she exclaimed.

[image credit]

Approach: It was Priya's turn to ask for a discount and forge a bold pathway to success, nerves (and sorry precedent) be damned.

"Hi!" she said with a smile.

"Hi," replied the cashier.

"I'm interested in buying this towel, but there's no price tag. How much is it?"

The cashier rang it up.

"$18."

"Can I give you $9?"

"$9?"

"Yes, $9," Priya said, voice perfectly steady. Fantastic!

"But the pricetag says $18."

"I have $9 cash and that's what my budget is. Can you give it to me for that, please?"

"It's eighteen! No!"

Stifling our laughs we ran outside.

Slow-mo instant replay: "Itz eiiiii-teen... nooooooooo!"

Wrap-up: And Team Asker is 0-2. Gotta step up. Gotta rally! Outside, I congratulated Priya. Her first retail asking! Then I noted that requesting half off right off the bat was a bit drastic, but it was still great she tried. Opening your mouth is half the battle. My year of requests resulted in a 73 percent success rate, and there was no reason she couldn't average that over time, too.

STOP THREE: Luxury lingerie boutique a block away.

Target: A lace thong for our imaginary friend.

[image credit]

Approach: State a budget, state a reason for the purchase, be nice and see if the sales person will accommodate. And stretch Priya's comfort zone by asking in a fancy boutique, this time around.

Build up: Almost everything in the store was silk and the prices were correspondingly sumptuous. To avoid blowing our cover as we found the right item to ask about, we pretended to be shopping for a bachelorette party.

"Do you think she will like this?" Priya asked.

"Yes! Or what do you think about this lavender number?"

"Oh, totally! That is going to drive her guy wild!"

"Great! But hmm, I wonder if it's in line with what we wanted to spend."

"Gee, I don't know! It's on sale, but I think it's still a little pricey," Priya continued.

"I agree!"

"I wonder if I should talk to the cashier."

"Ok!"

Execution: We brought the panties from the sale rack to the counter. They were around $30.

"Hi. We're shopping for a friend's bachelorette party and found these, which I think she'd like. But they're still a little more than what we wanted to spend. Is there anything you can do to help us on this price?" Priya asked.

Elegant. Great form. What a pro!

The saleswoman smiled and thought about it for a moment.

"They're already on sale, so I can't go lower, but how much did you want to spend?"

"Around $20."

"Well, we have something similar over here, and they're a lot more affordable. Have you heard of Spanx? These are only $16 and every bride should have a pair. Or let me know if you want other suggestions."

We pretended to inspect the Spanx, but meanwhile I whispered to Priya that this was a good beginning if we wanted to negotiate more. We had the saleswoman helping us, on our side.

Normally -- if I really wanted to buy something out of my price range and really wanted that particular item -- I'd shift strategies here. I'd explain why that object is particularly special, or why I really like that one and is there any way they could make it work. I'd build rapport, ask if we could knock off the sales tax, see if there was something I could offer in exchange (buying more items at the lower price, for example), or shooting for a cash discount.

But since there was no bachelorette party, and no Spanx on the horizon for either of us, I didn't want to persuade the sales woman only to turn on our heels.

We thanked her and left.

Post-game analysis: Three attempts, three failures. And I call myself the Daily Asker? I apologized to Priya, who was very gracious about it all. But then I remembered what this was about -- what this whole Daily Asker experiment was about -- trying, taking risks, pushing personal boundaries and the boundaries of what's socially acceptable. The means, not the end... the journey not the destination... yeehaw!

"Let's shoot for two more -- make it an even five!" I cried.

Priya agreed.

STOP FOUR: Zola Wine and Kitchen, a purveyor of fine wines.

Target: A bottle of white for under $10.

[image credit]

Approach: Triple. First, build rapport with the salesperson. Second, see if you can score a discount by paying cash. Third, clearly exhibit a spending limit and encourage new ally on sales floor to try to help.

Build-up: Outside, we pooled our bills and saw we had around $7. Inside, we went straight for the under $10 white wines section -- a special display, in fact. We selected one and went up to the counter. I noticed that the saleswoman had a cool bracelet, so I complimented it. Not strategic -- an honest compliment. Believe it or not.

Then we got to work.

Execution: "Hi!" Priya said.

"Hi," the woman replied.

"How are you?"

"Good you?"

"Good, thanks! So I have a question for you... We'd like to get this bottle of wine but we only have around $7 between the two of us. Is there any kind of sale going on that we don't know about, or can you be flexible on the price?" Priya asked.

"Let me see... Well, I can give you 20 percent off with this neighborhood card. That brings it to $8.50." [I forgot the exact percentage but it was in that ballpark.] "It's a good thing you asked. You have to try, right?"

"I'm a big believer in asking," I answered. "This means a lot to us. Thank you."

We pooled our bills and some loose change and had barely enough.

All smiles, we left the store. I handed Priya the bottle: She had earned it.

By the way, if you're ever needing some wine in D.C., the store is on 9th, near Chinatown. Thanks, wine merchant! You made our day!!!

Post-game analysis: Priya made a personal connection and took the time to make eye contact and converse. She didn't ask for a huge discount and made sure to be appreciative of her generosity. And by asking to pay cash, she demonstrated a very clear limit on what we could afford. Interestingly, the saleswoman didn't ask us if we had credit cards. (I saw the card reader, so that would have been a payment option.) I think she was genuinely pleased to make our day.

If you do get that kind of reaction from someone, I recommend using it wisely, not abusively. But: YAY!

After stopping in a mix of boutiques and mom n' pops, I suggested we try the ultimate challenge: a large chain store.

STOP FIVE: CVS

Target: A $2.69 box of tissues for Priya's apartment.

[image credit]

Approach: Do whatever it takes to get some kind of discount on those tissues. It would be hard, but not impossible. Aim for greatness.

Build-up: I reminded Priya that sometimes all it takes is asking at the cash register if they have any unadvertised sales. If that didn't work, she should try anything else we'd practiced: asking for a cash discount, trying to round down the sum, building up personal rapport, stating a budget, giving a compelling reason for the purchase.

Execution: Priya brought the tissues to the counter and asked right off the bat: "Are these on sale, because they're a little more than what I wanted to spend."

The saleswoman looked a bit incredulous but rang them up.

"They are not on sale, sorry."

"Oh!" Priya said. "It's just that I don't have enough cash on me and I really need these tissues. Is there anything you can do to help?"

The saleswoman bounced her gaze between Priya and me -- checking for a hidden camera? Were we about to Punk her? -- saw how earnest we were, then relaxed.

"Let me see. I think there was some sale, but I don't know if it was this week or last week. Just a second..."

She left the cash register and started looking through the tissue display. Meanwhile a line was forming, but she was now committed to helping Priya.

We exchanged guilty-thrilled looks. The man behind us mumbled something about this being "the worst day of my life for reasons you can't even imagine, and what the hell is taking so long?" and I turned around and said something to appease him.

A minute later our new friend returned.

"I have something! These are on sale! And it is not marked!" The box was 88 cents -- a huge discount compared to the one on the counter.

"Really!?" Priya almost squealed. "Thank you!!"

Sure, she only saved $1.81. But that's also more than 70 percent.

Post-game analysis: Since the first dud was mine, on her four askings Priya had a 50 percent success rate. For a first-day crash course, that is fantastic! I'm so proud of her, and I can't wait to hear about her next victories.

Even when it's an afterthought, ask!

Thursday evening, I made plans to dine with my cousin. Before heading over to the restaurant (a pizzeria that was nothing to write home, er, blog about) Eau and I stopped by the Shakespeare Theater Company in Chinatown to see what was playing that night.

Corneille’s “The Liar,” in a new translation, was one of the options. His name evokes memories of the dour dramas I studied in high school and college. I knew he'd written comedies, but I never had the pleasure of seeing one.

A brochure said tickets start at $36. It was an acceptable splurge for both Eau and I, and my cousin, consulted with a quick phone call, was on board. I approached the box office, took out my credit card and was about to say, “Three tickets for The Liar tonight, please,” when after a split second’s hesitation, I redirected.

“We’d like tickets for the Liar, for tonight at 8. But do you have rush tickets or youth prices?”

“I can do rush tickets for you. You’re all under 36, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s $10 a ticket.”

“Wow! Thanks!”

Certainly, that’s not an “asking” in the ambitious sense of the term. No negotiation, no persuasion, no dastardly feats attempted. But if I hadn’t asked about my options, I firmly believe he wouldn’t have volunteered that information.

The last ditch request for a better deal even – along the lines of “Any discounts I don’t know about?” “Can you do any better on this price?” and so on – is an impulse that was cultivated during that year of daily asking, when I was forced to come up with something, anything, for the project. Time and again I saw cashiers reach for coupons behind their registers, reveal deals or promotions I had no clue existed, or find simple but effective ways to help me save a few bucks. That’s how I got one of my biggest monetary victories last year: 2 vouchers on United, plus hotel and dinner, after I asked to be put on the volunteer list for giving up a flight I didn’t want anyway.

Even more fundamentally than customizing deals or getting special treatment, isn’t asking about making sure you’re getting what you’re entitled to? An opportunity being presented to others. A better salary. Unadvertised but available perks.

Available, that is, to those who ask.

[image credit]

Two retail coups in Kensington, Maryland

Kensington, Maryland, where my post-waffle trip with Eau continued on Wednesday, has a a row of great antique shops. In the first very one I spotted two books. One was a dictionary of art criticism terms for $3, the other was a book written in the early 1900s called "How to listen to music," for $8. The former seemed like a useful reference, and the latter was an adorable, antiquated document.

A selected sentence: "The highest form of musical composition is the symphony. This stands in contrast to a style of music that is increasingly appreciated. We name this style popular music," The italicized popular made me smile. Like you'd say umami or some other newfangled or imported concoction.

Had to have it.

I approached the register and tried the ol' round number method.

"Hi!" I said and smiled.

"Hi," she answered.

"I'd like to buy these books, but could I get both for $10?"

"Yes, that's fine," the woman answered. "Oh, this book?" she began when she saw the dark green hardcover with gold lettering of the music book. "I'm so glad you're buying this. Someone was just in here and wanted to buy it, to cut it up and use for crafts."

"Crafts?" I asked, horrified. (Nothing against crafts, but not with cute books written in 1908 that someone might one day snatch up and read...)

"Yes. They cut up books and use them in scrapbook projects."

"Ah."

"It's such a cute book. I'm glad they didn't buy it and tear it up."

"Me too!" I answered.

A few stores down, my eyes fell on a pair of earrings. Two thin bands of gold were holding together a pair of seed pearls and drop shaped amethysts. They were the first thing I saw in the store, and they gave me an idea.

My dad and stepmom told me a few weeks ago they wanted to get me a graduation present -- jewelry, in general, and a rather expensive form thereof, to be specific -- and checked first if there was anything else I preferred. I told them the fact they're coming to Boston is my present and this isn't the time for extravagant purchases, but Dad gave me the "Ok, honey, of course, no problem," answer, which meant one thing: He was going to proceed as planned.

But if I spotted something I loved, and something I knew was in his budget, that would be the best of both worlds.

The earrings were $250, marked down from $300.

My target was considerably lower.

I glanced at Eau, who I'm positive could bargain in her sleep, and on cue she started talking: "We'd like to buy these earrings as a present for someone who just finished a Ph.D., but--"

I picked up there: "But $250 is really over my budget."

"These really are lovely," the woman -- slight British lilt, deliberate, distinguished -- replied. "How much would you like to spend?"

"I'll be totally honest. A lot less than the pricetag, unfortunately."

"Well, tell me. I'll see what I can do," the woman said. "These have seen sitting here for a while, and they really are pretty."

"They are! Ok. Then, I'll just say it. $125," I said.

Eau continued: "She's been working on her doctorate for 8 years, and she finished literally a few days ago. These earrings would be a gift -- a treasure to commemorate her graduation years to come."

"I see," the woman answered. "Eight years is a long time. What was the doctorate in?"

"Comparative literature," I answered.

"Interesting. And what is the career plan, after graduation? Teaching?"

"Writing," I said.

"I see," she answered, less convinced. "Well, I will call the owner and see what she says."

"Thank you!"

She murmured a few words into the receiver and turned to me with a counteroffer.

"She says the lowest she can do is $175."

I countered that I'd like $175 even -- no tax. Especially since I was paying cash.

The owner agreed.

In all, saved $76!

And I left the store with a pair of earrings from the turn of the last century which I will wear the day my grandkids get their doctorates. Hmm... What will people be studying in 2070? A few dissertations I'd love to see:

"Toward a statistical understanding of the time travel habits of infants."

"Peanuts: How a small beige legume brought peace and goodwill to mankind."

"Lunarian communities and the emigration equation: Three case studies"

"How a free press turned Latvia into the 21st century superpower."

"Remember cancer? Hierarchies of epidemiology at the CDC before the Fritzaur Fungus eradicated all disease."

"Askologia: Revisiting La Roxy's Italian period, 2030 to 2061."

What would be your ideal dissertation topic for 2070??

=)

[image credit]

Cut $5 off this thinghiemabob?

The past week has been, how you say, crazy, and the coming week is looking like a repeat. But Saturday I took a break and decompressed for a few blessed hours, and I had a lovely time.

I spent the day at an antique fair with a new friend. We've hung out a few times and she's always struck me as a fun, up-for-anything kind of spirit. My suspicions were confirmed when we meandered up and down the aisles of this massive warehouse, oohing and aahing at all the antique and vintage wares and comparing notes about our dream houses and possible past lives.

At one booth, I spotted a little bowl/candy dish/thinghimabob and asked how much it was. A mother-daughter duo were sitting calmly, chatting quietly and polishing silver. If the set around them collapsed and a 19th century British row house were erected, and Dicken's voice started narrating from the ether, I would not have blinked. Two women with porcelain skin and long locks, hunched over their goods, polishing away. Amelia Caraway was waiting for Captain Manley, she was. He was out in the Indies. He would come back and take them both to out east, but until then they had to polish, polish away. Would they earn enough that week to pay the ruthless Mr. Branford his rent? And would the elder Mrs. Caraway ever find a way to tell Amelia she was actually the daughter of the Duke of Sussex, a lovechild begotten when he was but 17 and the elder Mrs. Carraway a bonnie lass from the heath?

"$10" replied the older lady.

I was about to see if they could do $7 when the daughter cut in.

"Oh mom, not $10. That's too much. $5."

"Great! I'll take it."

"I've had it for too long. I'm ready to say bye-bye to that piece," the daughter continued.

I handed over the cash and we started talking. They had come down for the antique fair from northern California. Gave me a card. Invited me to stop by for dinner if I'm ever in Bolita.

I believe I will. Thank you, ladies.

[image via mad.lesartsdecoratifs.fr]

Ask-o-logy interruption: Save $50 off a $250 bed?

I've been writing and writing these reports, and we're almost done!! Two more to go.

But I miss the other reports. The ones where I gallivant around town, ask away, and then tell you, gentle reader, what I've been up to!

So I thought I'd interject such a story, because it's a good one. Because it confirms some of what I've discovered this year. And also totally surprised me. Plus, I need a break from all those graphs...

***

For months, I've been on the lookout for a bed. Like a proper grad student, I had put the boxspring and mattress directly on the floor. But I could deny those secret yearnings for a headboard, and, dare I hope, a footboard?


My dream bed is either an antique or something on Horchow.com -- classical lines, but sufficiently indulgent -- but that site is out of the question. Some of those beds cost more than I earn in a month.

Instead, I've been scouring the internet. I've seen a few possibilities here and there, but nothing that screamed "buy me!" at a reasonable price. Until this week. The ad on Craigslist was simple:

Hand carved, queen sized sleigh bed. $250 O.B.O.

It was more than I wanted -- my original aim was under $100 -- but after almost a year of looking, Mr. A and I agreed to raise our budget to $200. The photos were gorgeous. Mr. A concurred: this was our new bed!! There was no phone number, so I wrote an email:

Hi,

I am interested in this bed. Where are you located? And what is the
story behind it? (i.e. where did you buy it, how old is it, if you
know.)

Thanks!

La Roxy

With no answer for a few hours, I got scared. What if ALL OF SAN DIEGO wants that bed? I sent this follow up. Not the best move, I admit:

Hello,

I wrote a short while ago, asking about your bed.

But bottom line, I would like to buy it! From the pictures, it looks exactly like what I am looking for. My only question is how I'd disassemble it -- do the head/foot boards come off of the frame?

Where are you located?

I could come by today, or tomorrow anytime but 12 to 3.

Best way to get in touch is by phone. My cell is XXX-XXX-XXXX.

Thanks again,

La Roxy

The next day, a guy wrote back and called, saying I was the first person to reply, and the bed was mine. He explained it was made in Indonesia and had belonged to a friend of his who upgraded. All good.

Here's where the story gets interesting.


I stopped by the ATM to extract $250, showed up at our meeting point, met the seller, and concluded the bed was as gorgeous live as in the pics.

"As for the price," I started.

(Between you and me, I was prepared to pay $250, because 1) It's a long term investment, not something I want to compromise on excessively in terms of quality and aesthetics 2) It was wood, with rock solid construction and 3) I was tired of looking. This was it.

But I was still going to try, fleetingly, to get the price down a little. Like 10 percent.)

"Yeah, I'm willing to deal," the guy cut me off, even before I could ask.

Excellent! Since he so openly said he'd like to deal, I decided to aim lower.

"Ok, great! What do you think of $200?"

"Perfect. That's exactly what I was shooting for."

Perfect, indeed!

I paid him, we loaded af few slabs into my car, and then I discovered there was no way the headboard would fit.

We looked at it, loosely measured it. I explained I've moved headboards before -- but this was truly massive. He got a phone call from a sorta girlfriend type to make dinner plans, so I thanked him and said I'd figure it out from there.

Instead, he stayed. And found a way to dangle the footboard out of my trunk. And then strapped the headboard to his car. And followed me to my house. And then unloaded it in my living room.

The whole time, I was telling him: You don't need to do this. You are being too kind. I will rent a truck, or find someone with a bigger car. My boyfriend and I can do this lifting. Your end of the deal was to sell me the bed. Even loading part onto my car was enough.

And he replied: I want to finish what I started. I have bungee cords, I have a car, I have time, so why not just do the job right?

He had nothing to gain. (And, contrary to what you might think, we weren't flirting -- at all. I would have felt disloyal to be even a little flirtatious while buying a bed for Mr. A and me. I'm not that sleazy, or desperate for a discount, come on. And he was clearly on his way to meet a date.)

Before he left, I gave him a bottle of wine as a thank you gesture -- at least that, he accepted.

Yes, I got a nice discount. But this story is not just about asking and getting. It's about someone who gave without being asked. Someone who was thorough and generous. Someone who makes me think about how I can be a kinder, more generous person, too. Someone whose story I was eager to tell.

Gained: Met an exceptional person. (And saved $50.) Thank you, David!

Tomorrow: Back to Ask-o-logy!

Best leather?

June 13. Day 348.

For four days, I've been doing research. There are a few leather items I've been wanting to buy -- a little something for Mr. A, a few accessories for friends, and one special piece for a friend who's about to celebrate a birthday, graduation, and a promotion.

In Florence over the course of three days, after concluding that the leather sellers at the market by my hotel were way overpriced, I talked to people on the street to find out the best place for such a purchase.

I asked four people and got four answers:

1) Waiter, eyes flashing greedily (ok, not really, but wouldn't it be cool if they did?) "Go to Luca and tell him Antonio sent you. His booth is two streets down, hang a left, first right, halfway down the alley, by the bar, on the right. You can't miss it. Make sure to tell him I sent you. He will make you a special price."
2) Real estate agent: "There's a leather school near Santa Croce where you can probably find better prices."
4) American tourist by the leather school: "The leather school is totally overrated. I spent 250 euros on a bag. I just bought it because I spent nothing in Florence and so I had to buy something. Definitely not the 50 euro artisanal steal. Keep looking."
3) Shopkeeper with an antique bike and nerdy glasses: "San Lorenzo has a good leather market. You could explore that. But all these merchants are going to overcharge. The quality sucks, the patterns are outdated, and you're not going to find a good product for a good price. Be prepared to overpay for something equivalent to what you have in your home country. Florentine leather is a myth."

Over the course of four days, I shopped in one store and about three street stands, all with different prices and willingness to bargain.

I got two wallets for 20 euros instead of 30, by shamelessly flirting. I whacked off 2 euros from a different stand, by claiming the dollar was weak. I tried to bargain down a purse in a store but failed. Still bought it, because it was gorgeous, and something I think the recipient will like.

That was yesterday. I'm writing this all today, since today is the culmination of so many days of leather hunting.

I spent the day in Pisa with La Divina and Il Grillo (aka her boyfriend - more on the pseudonym later), who drove down from Milano last night.

And here, in Pisa, the dilemma of "where to get the best price" suddenly melted away. Because I came across a merchant with products so exquisite that were completely worth every cent. I did try to negotiate, but the woman was firm, confident. People were crowding behind me to grab the things I put down. Clearly, this was the place to shop.

In all, over four days, I saved about 12 euros on a handful of wallets.

Coffee with Valentino?

June 12. Day 347.

This afternoon I passed through Cetona, a thimble-sized town knwn for its oblong piazza (pictured below), its fat old men sitting on the shady patio of the only open bar around 4 p.m., and, my business acquaintance told me, Valentino's vacation home -- tucked behind a thick wall.

"Are you serious? You have it on authority that Valentino lives here?"

"Yes! Only in the summer, on weekends. Not all the time."

"So what are the chances that he's here now?"

"It is possible."

After a day of meetings, we were heading back to the train station so I could return to Florence. As we passed through Cetona, he drove slowly, and then indicated the palazzo from the car.

"There."

It was massive, the color of orange sorbet.

What I wanted to do: Get out, run up to the buzzer and ask Signor Valentino to tea, coffee, a drink, a conversation, anything. But I held back. What if this man driving me to the station, who is not exactly a client, but certainly someone with whom I need to act professionally, thinks I'm a totally immature American tourist with a star-f*cking complex? (And hey, maybe I am, but does he need to know?)

I decided to test the waters.

"Have you ever had the impulse to ring the bell? I mean, do you think people ever do that?"

"I'm sure they do."

"Do you think he'd be nice?"

"I heard that he is. When he's in this town, especially, he acts like one of the locals. Has coffee in the square, talks to people."

"Would you be interested having a coffee, the three of us? If I rang the bell?"

"What do we have to lose. If he says no at least we tried."

A kindred spirit! Eccellente.

Behind the wall, the villa was barely visible. The door was huge and imposing and wooden, tall enough to let a horse carriage with lit torches to pass through, wide enough for an RV.

We both got out of the car.

I approached the buzzer.

My heartbeat quickened.

I rang.

"Si?" an old woman's voice answered.

I looked into the eye of the camera that was surely watching me.

"Buongiorno. Cercavo il Signore Valentino. E a casa?" (Hello. I am looking for Mr. Valentino. Is he home?"

"Non c'e. Chi lo cerca?" (He's not here. Who's asking?)

"Va bene. Non importa. La ringrazio. Arrivederci." (Ok, forget it. Thanks. See you later!)

Gained: Nothing, and yet something. I tried to ask a fashion icon to hang out for the afternoon. Or even just chat for a minute. Something I would have never done before last July... It was an attempt that could have ended with coffee at his villa, or maybe a swearword and the boot. But at least I went for it. Worth this story, if nothing else.

Ballad of the slimy coupon evader

May 25. Day 329.

I went kayaking on the lake today!!!

That sentence definitely takes three exclamations points. Here's how they break down:

! -- I, as in me, La Roxy, went kayaking. Not some outdoor type, not an athletic pro, nor any of my very adventurous ziplining trapezing rock climbing friends. Little old cafe-a-day meeee!

!! -- I survived!! I thought it would be cold and windy and wet. And deadly. Before we headed out, I read all these tales about hypothermia induced paralysis, capsized kayaks and people who boated too far out to come back. The water in Lake Tahoe is dangerously cold, every website cautioned. Stay away. Only go if you've said your goodbyes. (Ok, the wording was more like "Be careful, it can be dangerous if you're an idiot," but I took the liberty of reading between the lines.)

!!! -- It was totally fun!!! Loved it. Sunny, exhilarating. Would totally do it again. The best part was putting the oars down, gliding along, and listening. And getting soaked!

On the way to rent the boat, I stopped and checked my cell phone for coupons. This has become a regular practice, as long as I remember to do it. Just google the name of the establishment and "coupon" "discount" "special" or "deal." I just flash the screen and down comes the price.

I quickly found something for $5 off a kayak rental.

I presented the cell phone screen.

The guy working the station nodded, started filling out a rental contract, then stopped.

"You know, I can only take on coupon. If I validate your parking, I can't apply this coupon."

"Really? We were told parking validation is a guarantee, not a coupon."

"I know, that's how it seems, but we can't apply two coupons."

"Please? When we validated, they didn't say we couldn't use this coupon." (Fine, I hadn't checked, but worth a try.)

"No, I'm sorry. But your best bet is the validation, that's $7 off."

Technically, no, it wasn't $7 "off." We'd paid for parking, $7, with a promise of a refund as long as we bought something for more than $7 on the resort. So we were supposed to get that parking reimbursed. Hands down. And neither coupon said "Not to be used with any other discount." But forget it. He was mired in his policies, and I wasn't prepared to drive half an hour to the next kayak rental place.

Gained: annoyance at Camp Richardson. Quickly forgot about it once I hit the water.

Later, Mr. A did his own asking:

We stopped at a store selling used skis.

His are ancient, and he's a great skier, so it's high time for an upgrade.

There were some name brand ones (sorry, I forgot what they were! K2 or something like that?) going for $225.

"Would you take $175?" he asked.

"I'd do $200."

Score! He brought the price down $25 in 2 seconds . And I like that he was bold. Didn't go for a conservative 10 percent. Really dug deep. After all, maybe if he'd asked for $200 the merchant would have settled on $215.

Still, Mr. A declined. We walked away, to see if the merchant would agree to the lower price. When he did not, Mr. A decided to hold off, since summer is peak season for buying skis.

His gain: $25.