Buy Nothing New. Fail.

Oh readers, I am ashamed. I pledged to Buy Nothing New. I have broken my pledge. I have Bought New Things.

This is like eating all of your butterscotch lollies in the first 30 minutes of the 40 Hour Famine and then going through McDonald's drive-through for a Big Mac meal and a box of McDonaldland cookies.

Let me walk you through how we got from the excitement of last Thursday to the shame of today.

Thursday
Things started so well. Miss E and I visited my mum and requested the loan of a cake tin. I explained that I could not buy my own cake tin as I was Buying Nothing New! Mum searched her cupboard. She had to get so far into her cupboard, I thought there was a good chance she could reach Narnia and have a conversation with Mr. Tumnas.

Mum returned from the depths of her cupboard to report that my sister had borrowed her best cake tin. She'd gotten there about six months before me. Apparently, she is buying nothing new either.

However, Mum didn't return from Narnia empty-handed.  She gave me a slightly dented square cake tin. I accepted it happily and returned home feeling very pleased with myself and my commitment to my pledge to Buy Nothing New.

Friday
I used the slightly dented square tin to bake a banana cake.

I thought it was fine but then I removed it from the tin...

It resembled a giant slice of banana toast rather than a banana cake. To give you a sense of scale, the cake is sitting on a dinner plate.

I checked my recipe and realised I had omitted two of the required tablespoons of self-raising flour AND had used a tin that was far bigger than required.

I was slightly troubled by my banana cake's appearance but, overall, I was delighted. I was filled with satisfaction that only comes from taking a black banana, butter, eggs and some flour and producing a cake. This feeling was new to me.

Fuelled by my satisfaction, I became determined to own my own cake tins so that I could continue this lovely baking experience.

Mr. B's mum popped over for a visit so she joined Miss E and I on our quest to own cake tins. We set out on a journey to the local op shops.

I was filled with high op shop hopes. The op shop volunteers were extremely helpful. One kind op shop man embarked on a lengthy "out the back" search but, sadly, returned empty handed.

Our op shop visits were fruitless.

Undeterred, I put a message out to my Freecycle community. I asked the community if anyone had any cake tins they could spare. I love the Freecycle community.

Saturday
Mr. B, Miss E and I left the house - with the banana cake - early on Saturday morning to attend a four-hour Child First Aid course. We discovered that someone had broken into our cars! No! Horrifying. Nothing had been taken but the locks were broken.

While we were aware that this was not the crime of the century, we thought the local police would like to be informed. We were very impressed by their response. The constable was very sympathetic and promised that the Crimes Unit would attend. However, he did laugh when I suggested that we "nail these bastards".

This incident really has nothing to do with my Buy Nothing New pledge but I thought you'd like to know about it.

I did receive word from two members of the Freecycle community. They had cake tins for me. Coincidentally, they were from the same suburb (as each other - not the same suburb as me). It must be a suburb where baking used to take place but no longer. Unfortunately, the suburb was very far away from our suburb. I wanted the cake tins but I didn't want to drive an hour to get them.

Sunday
I left the house on Sunday morning to do the supermarket shopping. This is where things went downhill. I decided to have a quick look in Harris Scarfe. Danger.

It was at Harris Scarfe that my commitment to my Buy Nothing New pledge crumbled.

50% off bakeware.

I couldn't resist it.

I considered hiding the bags in the car until November, but, given recent events, decided that they would be at risk of being stolen.

So, I took my New Things into the house. I could see that Mr. B, as my husband, was fairly concerned, that I could make a public commitment and break it after three days.

The cruel tragedy is that I haven't bought anything new for months. But, that is no excuse. You can't eat a Big Mac during the 40 Hour Famine and say that you skipped dinner last week.

I called my mum to alert her.

Me: Mum, I have a problem. I broke my Buy Nothing New pledge. 50% off bakeware at Harris Scarfe.
Mum: Oh well, I think one cake tin is okay.
Me: I bought a cake tin, a cooling rack, a loaf pan, two mini muffin trays and some wooden spoons.
Mum: Oh.
Me: But it only cost me $30.35.
Mum: Oh! Great! Can you go back and get a cake tin for your sister?

Thanks Mum.

The Buy Nothing New campaign is offering a $5000 prize for the best documentation of the Buy Nothing New experience. I'd say I've disqualified myself. It is a shame. I could have bought some full-size muffin trays with that cash.










My three key points:

1. Be very careful about making a pledge and publicly announcing it.

2. Be very, very careful about entering Harris Scarfe when they have a 30% - 60% off sale.

3. Stay tuned for tales of my first forays into baking.

Adventures at the self checkout

Let me begin by saying that I am a very loyal Coles supermarket shopper. When they introduced the "You'll love Coles" line (since discontinued) my view was:

Yes. I do love Coles. And I like your confidence that I will continue to love you.

Woolworths, IGA and Foodworks have done nothing to offend or upset me but, somehow, through the mysterious powers of marketing and branding, Coles has won my loyal custom.

I should also say that I take pleasure in supermarket shopping. For me, it provides the retail therapy without any level of guilt. My mum can justify almost any food-based purchase with "it's cheaper than takeaway" and I follow her lead on this one.

Last Sunday morning, I was enjoying a visit to our local Coles as I did our weekly "big shop". I noticed that self checkouts were under construction.

As I went through the checkout, I had a conversation with the friendly Coles employee:

Me: So, when will the self checkouts be ready?
Friendly Coles employee: Next week. We have lots of people who buy one or two things so it'll be great, much quicker.
Me: True. I wouldn't want to use them for a big shop though.
Friendly Coles employee: Oh no, you wouldn't use them for a big shop.
Me (assessing the risk of an uprising): And will it mean less employees?
Friendly Coles employee: Yes, because we can have one person to six registers. So, it's a win-win really.

I was impressed by his selfless, positive attitude towards this change and I deemed the risk of an uprising of Coles employees to be very low.

I returned to Coles yesterday to do our big shop and, as promised, the self checkouts were ready to use.

As I had my big shop in my trolley, I searched for a human operated checkout. Sadly, the only human operated checkout that was open was marked "12 items or less".

Hmmmmmmm.

I clearly had more than 12 items ("it's cheaper than takeaway!") but I could not face the self checkout with my more than 12 items.

I decided to chance it with the "12 items or less" lane.

I was quickly approached by a friendly Coles employee.

Friendly Coles employee: Would you like to use the self checkout?
Me: No, thank you. I have my big shop here.
Friendly Coles employee: You'll be okay. Come with me.

I was mildly troubled by this turn of events but, I am open to change, and was confident that the friendly human Coles employee would help me.

He showed me to the self checkout area but then quickly left me to attend to other self checkout related matters.

All began well, but then my self checkout system started to run into trouble.

When I scanned my carton of free-range eggs, it automatically started flashing its red light to cry out for human Coles employee assistance.

When I tried to pay, it cried out for human assistance again. The friendly Coles employee approached.

Friendly Coles employee: Did you try to suspend the sale?
Me: No. I just tried to pay.

I looked around me. There were many people attempting to self checkout their big shops and they were in a sea of flashing red lights. Their human faces were troubled and, oddly, they were apologising to the overworked human Coles employees who came to their assistance.

My three key points on this experience are:

1. If self checkout systems need human assistance, let us ensure there are enough humans to assist them.

2. If humans want to give money to a supermarket in return for food, let us make it easy for them to do that.

3. If introducing a change, let us ensure that, at the very least, the first experience of that change is positive.

Thermomixing it up

Last night, I left the house. Yes, I did. I left the house, on my own and it was night-time. I have only achieved this twice (and I am including last night in that count) since Miss E was born five months ago.

I jumped in the car and headed off to the home of a fellow mum and member of the same mothers' group. I had been invited to attend a Thermomix demonstration.

I had never heard of this Thermomix contraption before but a quick Google revealed that it is "the world's most advanced kitchen appliance".

Interesting.

Before leaving the house...
Mr. B: Should I keep your credit card here with me? Ha ha ha!
Me: No. Ha ha ha!

At the Thermomix demonstration...
Me: Oh, this is amazing!
Me: Oh, the kids would love this! (NB: I only have one child and she doesn't eat solid food yet).
Me: I WOULD love to make my own stock!

The Thermomix truly was amazing. I swear, at one point, the demo lady threw in a whole apple and produced a coleslaw with homemade mayonnaise.

The Thermomix was also pricey. I would have to sell our fridge, oven, dishwasher and microwave to fund the purchase.

Before the credit card could come to any real danger, Mr. B called to advise that we had a Priority 1 at home (i.e. Miss E was initiating the grizzling process and was escalating to her alarm cry at a rapid rate).

On returning home and while working to resolve the Priority 1, I watched part of The Gruen Transfer.

A comment was made that advertising attempts to achieve this equation: Actual Self + Brand = Ideal Self.

The Thermomix demo was definitely appealing to my Ideal Self. My Ideal Self would happily produce strawberry sorbet and homebaked bread on a regular basis. My Actual Self could not justify this purchase.

So, my three key points:

1. Thermomix is amazing. If you ever see one in action, prepare to be amazed. Apple to coleslaw. I still don't know how she did that.

2. Thermomix is expensive. Leave your credit card at home if your tired Actual Self can be swayed by a convincing demo lady who is feeding you.

3. Leaving the house on one's own, at night-time is exciting. Do it once in a while.