Quality

We’ve been looking at carpet.  Going on nine years with three dogs (mostly potty trained, but you know how that goes), five kids who live with us, a few hundred more that have stormed the post.  Plenty of mishaps over the years.  Countless kids have wielded foam swords for their duels in the family room.  Couches have morphed into vaults in their make-shift Olympic training ground too many times to remember.  I use it as my personal gym 5-6 mornings a week, pounding the fluff out of the carpet and squishing it flat.  We’re the snacky type of family that allows (and encourages) all sorts of yummy treats downstairs.  Point being, it’s not smelling quite right.  There comes a time.  The man at the store gave us the low-down, directing us to the sale rack.  We found our own carpet on the other rack over.  $8.59 a square foot.  See?  We do have good taste.  We just rarely go with it.  Which led us to our conversation just the other night when Todd asked if there was anything in our lives or house that is top-of-the-line, the most expensive choice.  The only item that came to mind was my mixer, a 6-quart Kitchen Aid.  But now that I think about it, I have no idea if it’s the best, (I doubt it) we just got a good deal and it was the biggest we could find.  Curiosity got to us and we took a quick mental inventory of our shopping history.  

We have laminate counter tops, not granite.  Laminate floors, not hardwood.  Our beds are old orange oak from the 80s that we’ve painted black.  The other is a hand-me-down.  Our “antiques” are simply junk store finds usually $5 or less.  Our second-hand piano is nothing to look at (it’s actually more of an eyesore) and still needs to be tuned.  We finally got rid of our front loader washing machines and all the accompanying repair bills and have been using an old-fashioned top-loader for years, making me the happiest laundress in town.  Todd’s tools are likewise middle-of-the road, mostly hand-me-downs.  I’m not into jewels or cars or clothes or shoes… this was all making me a bit uncomfortable.  Surely we haven’t settled in every possible category? 

No, we found some exceptions.  One being my beautiful set of crystal goblets from our wedding nearly 22 years ago.  One broke several years into our marriage, but I packed the others carefully and carted them back and forth across the country.  They’ve been sitting on the top shelf with our Mason jars ever since, way in the back.  Just the other day Todd had to stabilize the shelf and removed all the glassware.  Out came the dusty goblets.  It’s not that we don’t like nice tableware; we use goblets at least 1-2 times a week for luncheons or breakfasts and of course Sunday dinner.  It’s just that we use the ones from IKEA—six for $5.  They are nearly indestructible.  My favorite set is actually a clearance find from TJ Maxx, hotel quality, thick, perfect.  $3 for six.  But since the crystal ones were out, I decided to try again and add them to our table scape for Valentine’s Day.  I remembered these couldn’t handle the dishwasher, that I’d have to be extra careful and wash them by hand.  What a bother, it was all coming back to me why I’d relegated them to the back of the top shelf.  I was holding one in both hands over the dishwater and the stem simply snapped.  Good grief.  I simply and unabashedly tossed the other one in the trash right on top of the broken one.  I can’t be bothered with anything that serves no other useful purpose than to look good.  I’m sure they were expensive, but I have no idea why anyone would buy them or use them.  Or give them to us.

I’m almost to the same point with my iPhone.  I’ve only had it a couple of years, it was a free upgrade.  I was almost mad at Todd when he brought it home.  Because I knew it was more phone than I would use and it would require me to be more conscientious than I’d had to be with my slider. (Which by the way, our daughter is using it now and it's as durable as they come, works great.)  I just had a feeling it might be more trouble than it would be worth.  Court’s still out.  We started out paying $11 a month insurance on it.  What a joke and a waste of money.  But I had to replace the entire phone shortly after I got it because it broke when one of the kids fell and dropped it face-down on the concrete.  $130 replacement fee (a bargain, apparently, since I had insurance on it). So then I bought the screen protector for $25 to ensure something like that would never happen again.  But then the screen cracked anyway simply from being in my purse (no keys even close), so I replaced the screen protector but also paid $100 to get the entire screen replaced.  Just recently it fell again and now the camera’s broken.  We hardly use the “smart phone” perks.  My husband and I share 1 GB of data a month and have never gone over.  I use it at church to look up scriptures, but I also usually bring my leather ones.  I’ve listened to books and talks on it but never outside of the house, so I could always just use my computer.  I’m the kind who has always kept a yellow pages under the seat in my van, so I don’t need a map app or whatever people use these days.  I just don’t know that my lifestyle warrants such a pricey piece of (delicate) equipment.

I guess now that I think about it, this is the category my wedding ring sits in.  I stopped wearing it years and years ago.  A smallish diamond (we were in college without a rich parentage or hefty savings) with channel diamonds flanking it.  Like the phone, we kept insurance on it the first couple of years.  We had no idea if we were supposed to or not, being such young and new adults.  $60 a year.  Which was such a pain because we’d have to have it appraised each year to renew the insurance.  I finally realized I am a risk taker.  Even though we didn’t have renter’s insurance, I was done with the ring insurance, we would simply take our chances.  But I would still get it professionally cleaned (for free) every now and then until they told me the diamonds were starting to come loose, that the prongs were coming apart.  Good grief.  That was the last straw.  Who has $200 to spend for upkeep on a ring?!  I was done.  Not just that, but the pokey diamond was constantly in my way, scratching my babies, getting bread dough wrapped all in it, so not worth the hassle.  I’ve been wearing plain silver bands ever since and couldn’t be happier.  My current ones are from Andrew’s jewelry class back in high school.  Love them!

Which bothers Todd a bit.

I can see where he’s sitting.  I can tell it sort of bugs him that I don’t wear my ring (but to be honest, it doesn’t even fit anymore anyway).  He likes nice things, and he wishes I would appreciate nice things.  You would never know it because we don’t really own any nice things, but he does have good taste.  And I have to agree with him, that there’s nothing like owning good quality items.  It’s just that I’ve read too many books like The Tipping Point which has led to my philosophy that yes, to a degree, quality matters.  You certainly want reliability, a straight cutting edge, shoes that won’t pinch your feet or fall apart after a few wearings, durability, well-constructed coats and sleeping bags, a tool that will serve you well and not make more work for you or cost you more down the road.  I get that.  But just because something is the the most expensive, or paraded as the highest quality, I’m not convinced it’s the best investment. 

Say we’re looking at a new truck, which is a legit example; we just bought one a few months back.  But let’s talk about that.  Do we (any of us) need one with all the available amenities?  I understand safety features, I can see why people might want the upgrades.  But all the conveniences designers can come up with simply because they’re options?  We just needed a truck that wouldn’t consistently break down, that could haul firewood and manure and scouts, and that could fit our whole family so we can get Christmas trees in the mountains.  Air conditioning would be nice.  So would low gas mileage (but we’re pretty realistic).  Other than that, what do you really need?  It’s simply to get us around and to haul some stuff.  Definitely not a status symbol.  We always buy used vehicles, but there’s a tipping point where it’s worth paying a bit more for a newer model with fewer potential issues.

Same with shoes.  I’m good with paying around $100 for a pair for either Todd or myself.  He wears the same pair every single day, and I’m pretty close behind.  We want leather, comfort, durability.  We don’t need $250 shoes, no matter what country they were made in or what magazine is advertising them.  It’s simply not necessary in our line of work.  And yet we know what cheap shoes feel like and how long they’re going to be around, so we go middle of the road.

What about clothes?  We’ve become a fast fashion society, which in my mind is a shame.  I am completely guilty of buying cheap clothes simply because I’ve liked the color and it was on sale.  But I know they will never hold up and barely last a year or two.  Compare that with a couple of black skirts I’ve owned.  One I bought at Nordstrom’s back in the 80s.  My mom bought the exact same one, long and straight and classic.  We wore them for years.  She worked in a bank and it was completely versatile, she wore it every week and it remained timeless.  I’ve had a similar short black pencil skirt for as long as I can remember.  It’s lined and has held up amazingly well.  I wear it all the time (we have a lot of church functions), all four seasons of the year.  With boots, sandals, heels, sweaters, blouses, short sleeved tops, cardigans, etc.  It goes with nearly everything and is my go-to when I need to get ready in a hurry.  I have no idea how much it cost, (I know it’s not top of the line), I’m sure it was a thrift store find.  But it has been so worth it.

Compare that with a dark red Banana Republic cardigan I found at a second-hand store maybe eight years ago.  I love the color!!  And the luxurious feel.  Yet it’s such good quality that I’m afraid to wear it.  Because I know I’ll have to dry clean it.  I don’t want it to get ruined.  It’s so thin and delicate.  So month after month, it sits on my shelf like the goblets that were so pretty but too fragile for everyday use.

I have a couple of other cardigan hoodies I love and use all the time.  One I bought at an outlet store in Arizona maybe ten years ago; another is from a local second-hand store; it doesn’t matter where I got them, what I love is that they’re durable, wearable, and timeless.  Definitely not top of the line, but they continue to serve me well and are my go-to’s when I need just a little extra layer.  Same with my jean jacket and other basics like my metal earrings I wear all the time.  Not the best, but perfect for my needs.

Which is exactly the conclusion I’ve come to.  I guess I’ve just had this question about the necessity of buying top quality in the back of my mind ever since I read a little opinion piece in the paper a month or so ago about a guy who was explaining the merits of buying the best you can afford.  He spent $5,000 on a bike.  But he’s had it for years and rides it nearly every day.  He even loves it more than when he first got it.  I loved his perspective, but it still made me wonder if he was making a blanket statement or if it was specific to this one item.*

Just today I read his latest column that explained by buying better quality, we end up buying fewer items of inferior quality, thus saving us money in the long-run.**  Totally get it, absolutely agree.

My question then became, is it always worth it or necessary to get the best?  Have I been missing the mark?  I pondered on this for a few days and came to the conclusion that no, satisfaction isn’t a direct correlation to buying the very best in a line-up.  What really seems to matter in my mind is that we buy the best we can afford that will meet our needs.

When I’m out shopping for a bike (sometime in the future perhaps, I’ve never owned a bike in my life), there’s no way I’ll need a $5,000 bike.  It would totally be wasted on me.  Likewise, I just need a computer that gets me around the internet, helps me with my photos and definitely has a word processing program, that’s it.  I don’t need fancy cookware, I’m a mediocre cook, I don’t especially enjoy it and I certainly don’t have any interest in taking it to the next level.  We just bought sleeping bags on Black Friday, but they’re rated to maybe 20 degrees, why would I ever need -20 degree bags? I’m not hard-core, I’m just a fair-weather camper, there's no way I want to camp in the snow.

Here’s the exception.

When it comes to friends, I suggest we seek out the best quality we can find.  Not that everyone needs to be golden or our bestie, it’s just that you know the frustration of a trowel with the handle that always wiggles itself loose no matter how often you re-screw it, the snow shovel with divots in the front scraping part, catching on any unevenness of the driveway, the pan that always burns even on low heat—useless, irritating, more than frustrating.  Likely you also know the kind of person who seems to come up with excuses more often than she follows through, the one who never really asks how you’re doing, the type who just isn’t as invested.  She's just as annoying as the spatula that keeps separating from its wooden handle.  So why does it keep making its way back to the drawer?  And why do we keep this kind of person in our lives?  No doubt, quality matters.

But I guess I just wanted to be thorough and look at all the possibilities if I was going to reach a conclusion about my initial question.  Does quality matter in every single instance?  As far as relationships—same with hardware or cookware—we have those that meet our needs:  we’d like a carpool team whose members will take their turns, we’re more productive as a PTO team if we have parents and teachers we can count on, it’s important we find a mechanic we can trust and a doctor we feel comfortable with.  These are the people who are satisfactory, they meet our needs, all’s well.

But when it comes to relationships like marriage and friendship, this is where I say splurge.  You want all the bells and whistles: commitment, fun, trust, safety, peace, common ground, comfort, the truth, someone who’s got your back, someone who won’t leave when it’s hard.

So I guess that’s my conclusion.  With the hierachy of all that’s available to us, from couches, art, and paint to lawn mowers, shovels, and potting soil, it behooves us to really consider our needs and to ignore the price tag and the sales guy.  It may be that our industrial-feeling family life warrants purchasing the highest grade dishwasher they sell, or it may be that we can get along without seeking out the best chocolate in town to make cookies for the second grade Valentine’s Day party.

With all the choices coming at us every day, I’m just not convinced that I need the best in every category.  As long as it meets my needs, I’m good with middle of the road.  But when it comes to relationships, I say get the Cadillac.  

* Sketch Guy (Carl Richards) in New York Times 21 December 2015

** Sketch Guy 21 Feb 2016