Quality Control

This is going to sound like the rant of an old person (okay, maybe it is) but I'm getting a little tired of paying more and getting (a whole lot) less. Maybe it's because I remember when sugar actually came in five-pound bags instead of four or ice cream that came packed in half-gallon containers instead of whatever the heck size it's packed in now or maybe it's because I've been on the phone all day with businesses who have taken (or are trying to take) a good deal of my money and are dead set on giving me very little in return.

Thinking about changing your cable service? Good luck. I spent the better part of my morning trying to compare packages with several cable providers and, guess what? They make it pretty darn impossible for you to do that. That $99 Triple Play deal doesn't end up looking so hot after they tack on all the one-time charges, network surcharges, FCC fees, mandatory equipment rentals, and Europe 100 international calling plan costs that those splashy commercials fail to mention. In the end, I figured out that, at best, I could save $20 or $25 to make the switch. No thanks. Not for a commercial-laden product (wasn't the whole allure of paying for cable TV supposed to include ditching those things?) that costs more than my first monthly car payment. I'm now on to researching the cost of an indoor HD antenna and going back to ABC, NBC, and CBS. I might have to forego 118 hours of non-stop Wimbledon coverage but I'll have enough in my bank account to hop a plane and see it in person.

After all that, I decided to try to tackle an ongoing problem with my iPass. I was pretty sure I had been double-billed for tollway fees on my son's car and had the printout of the last two months worth of charges sitting in front of me, ready to do battle. By the time I got off the phone with an admittedly pleasant young lady by the name of Flavia, I was ready to blow off the $55.75, sell my car and start riding a bicycle (stop laughing, I still remember how).

Finally, I tried to take on Coach. I have a bag I purchased at their outlet store two summers ago that has a strap that completely disintegrated. I thought, surely, a company that charges several hundred dollars for a purse (not that I actually paid that - what are you, crazy?) would stand behind their products for, if not a lifetime, at least a couple of years. A quick look at their website cleared up that delusional thinking in a hurry. They warranty their purses for ONE YEAR. Wow! One whole year. I have bags I've bought at Target for $19.99 that have lasted longer than that. So much for that label inside that says, and I quote, "This is a Coach bag. It was handcrafted from the finest materials. Its superior craftsmanship reflects our commitment to enduring quality." I guess they forgot to mention that "enduring" only lasts for 364 days.

I know that customer service is dying (but does it have to do so continually on my doorstep?). I accept the fact that prices generally go in one direction (thank you, technology, for being the exception to that rule). And I know that mass production (i.e. progress) means that quality is going to suffer.

Billy Joel may have been right when he said "the good old days weren't always good" but I'd be willing to bet he didn't write that after talking with Comcast.

Put Me in, Coach

I try my hardest to stay away from anything involving the Kardashian family. (If you ever see me hesitate, for even a second or two, to flip the channel past Kris Jenner's new talk show, you have my permission to confiscate my remote and send me to my room.) I find the fact that they are famous to be a sure sign of the impending apocalypse and I want no part in a world that wants anything to do with any of them.

There are countless reasons to support my disdain of all things Kardashian (North West, really?) but I'll just single out the latest - a $30,000 Hermes diaper bag. Yeah, that's right. Someone on this planet actually is stuffing dirty baby clothes into a vessel that cost more than my parents' first house.

My little Kardashian rant (I've been known to have them on a regular basis) serves to get me into my actual point - I've never been able to understand people who spend a lot of money on a purse. It seems like such a utilitarian purchase. You need something to hold your wallet, cellphone, coupons, etc. That much is clear. But as long as Target and TJ Maxx stock a bunch of cute bags that don't set you back more than a week's worth of lattes, I don't see any reason to drop a car payment or two on something that, sooner or later, is going to suffer an open lipstick tube or melted Milky Way.

So, if I'm such a stone-throwing realist, why am I now carrying a Coach bag over my shoulder?

It all started with a Girls' Day Out. After dropping old clothes off at Clothes Mentor (see, I do recycle and reuse), we headed to the nearest Factory Outlet Mall. My daughter, who doesn't share my contempt for designer bags, knew there was a Coach store on the premises and felt like treating herself.

When we walked in, we were handed a coupon informing us that we could take an additional thirty percent off the cost of anything in the already heavily discounted store. Within minutes, my daughter was holding five or six bags gleefully calculating the savings on each. Chastising me for not having anything in my hands, she insisted I "try on" a few. I humored her for awhile but had no intention of walking out of there with anything more than the satisfaction of knowing I was a more savvy shopper than the hordes of intoxicated customers eagerly paying for their armful of over-priced bags.

That's when I saw it. A black bag with relatively unobnoxious Coach lettering on it (why aren't all these manufacturers paying us to advertise their products instead of the other way around???) and a cute little pink flower hanging from its fully adjustable strap. It had hot pink lining, pockets for everything and a magnetic snap that didn't look like it would break anytime soon. It also had the cheapest price tag of anything I'd seen in the store - $198 with half off and the additional thirty percent on top of that. Very functional, very practical, likely to last longer than anything I'd bought at Target, highly approved by my resident personal shopper, and weighing in at a not too horrendous $66.50.

I wonder if this is how it started for Kim Kardashian?