It is my considered opinion that the “free gift with purchase” sales pitch has long been the surest way to catch the eye and, ultimately, the cash of a potential buyer. It certainly works remarkably well to get me to pull out my credit card.
We all know the premise. Just buy something you’d like to have, and we’ll throw in some free stuff to go along with it. Ok, free stuff, I’m in. Estee Lauder turned this into an art form in cosmetics marketing years ago. It doesn’t matter that I need two new lipsticks and another eyeshadow palette like I need a sidesaddle. It was free!
But I’ve come to terms with that. Ms. Lauder and her successors know that I can be counted on to fall for it at least once a year. Consequently, when I leave this mortal coil, there will not be a large stash of toilet tissue, Kleenex, or other paper products. There will, however, be a bewildering assortment of unused and partially used makeup, cleansers, and toners, along with a similar variety of firming, tightening, and lifting moisturizers. Perhaps that is as it should be.
These days, there is a new siren song of marketing that I seem to have no defense against. Of course, it has something to do with getting something free. As if anything is ever free. Sadly, whatever algorithm that drives my feed knows this and puts the tantalizing words “buy two, get one free” in front of me. Lord, help me.
It worked with kaftans. That seller was so perverse as to up the ante by offering two free ones with the purchase of three. This is exactly how one can go broke saving money.
But clothes or makeup and that sort of thing can be justified as they are things that are actually used. Eventually, they will be worn out or used up, one or the other. Recently though, the devil came to me again. Not wearing a blue dress, but rather needlepoint.
It’s a throwback to those days when certain ladies with the leisure to do so could while away the hours doing needlework that didn’t involve darning socks. When I was in my 20’s, I tried to take it up when Karl was doing his last tour on ship before retiring from the Navy. I had a vision of myself, at home, waiting for him to return while I made needlepoint for pillows in my spare hours. Contented, tranquil, and relaxed—that was the picture.
But I was none of those things at that time in my life. I was task-oriented and process-driven. Doing needlepoint was another item on the “to do” list, offering up something that needed to be done and finished. It was no more relaxing than doing the laundry, folding towels and sheets, or ironing shirts. So I gave it up, but I still like a needlepoint pillow withsome kind of pithy saying on it.
These pillows serve no kind of useful function. They’re too small to add comfort or support when sitting on a chair or sofa. They only encourage a wry smile or perhaps a chuckle. But nothing particularly useful.
Across my feed came just such a pillow. Colorful and with the phrase I have adopted as my needed mantra for 2026. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Knowing one’s own circus and monkeys as distinct from other circuses and other monkeys could be a key to well-being in the coming year. But the seller was just a bit too proud of the merchandise. So I moved on.
In a matter of days, it showed up again. This time, offering “buy two, get one free.” Well, as I said, I love needlepoint pillows, so perhaps I should look through the inventory. There was one with a quote often attributed to Coco Chanel with just the right cheeky tone. But nothing for that third pillow, the one that would be free. I looked through the options again, this time focused on perhaps one that would serve as a helpful reminder. But even with that in my mind, I couldn’t bring myself to settle on one proclaiming “STFU.”
But the devil is persistent, and so is the algorithm. In less than a week, another needlepoint pillow appeared, this one sounding so much like me. “I don’t hold grudges. I remember facts.” So I clicked, and then realized that it was the same seller, with just enough new stuff to send me to the edge and to PayPal.
So now there’s going to be a full-blown collection of smart-assed pillows left behind to go with all those kaftans and makeup. If there’s a moral to this story, I’m not sure what it might be. But I can offer up the Chanel quote as something that might have meaning on a global scale these days.
“The best things in life are free. The second best are very expensive.” I don’t think she was talking about perfume.
