Bulking Up
How my paternal feelings are exploited by Amazon Prime.
by Logan Hill
December 11, 2006
Every once in a while, I stop and marvel at the inefficiency of my efficency, like when Fed-Ex rushes my order across the country on two planes and three trucks so I can save three bucks and five minutes on a giant box of pretzels I might have bought across the street. Other times, I calculate my savings (no tax + coupon + free shipping + time saved + three-percent-cash-back Amazon Visa card = twenty-eight percent off diapers + no errands - undermining spousal commentary). Sometimes, I wonder if I'm striving to reconnect with my suburban roots. Other times, I worry that I'm not actually a brilliant bargain-hunter, but just another nervous new dad who's compensating for something, afraid of not meeting all his new and frightening responsibilities. Okay, well, maybe I know that last bit is true. But clipping Internet coupons never hurt anyone, right? At least I'm not fucking the nanny. (Not that I can afford a nanny . . . If Amazon had nannies, would I have to pay income tax? Someone should look into this.)
Lately, my shopaholicism has slowed down a bit. The closets just won't hold much more and my daughter's needs are getting simpler: a clean space to crawl on and some food to throw at my face. This week, I barely bought anything: just Christmas presents for my nieces and a $119 laser printer. Oh, and an affordable bulk order of condoms, which arrived in a ridiculous, industrial-strength aluminum tin. My wife has mocked this more than anything else I have ordered so far, and she's right: It looks like a prop for a porn set. But I swear it was the same price as two little boxes of rubbers at my corner bodega — and, besides, we need them. We can't have another kid right now. Our closets are so packed, there's not enough room.
©2006 Logan Hill and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Logan Hill is a contributing editor at New York magazine. |
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