COLUMN: "Coupons Are A Girl's Best Friend"

From Caren Lissner's "Storm and Stress," Fall '92 I am probably the cheapest person on campus. I deny myself midnight pizza orders. I see about three films per year. I clip coupons like crazy. The highlight of my fall break was cruising through foliage-laden suburbia to see whether Shoprite, Pathmark, Foodtown or Grand Union had the cheapest tuna. Shoprite had practically everything on sale. I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. Here, Acme sends out a circular if they mark down canned beets. I know that if I ever become rich, I will still comparison shop and remain as frugal as I am now. There's no need to waste money. As a liberal arts student, I don't expect to become wealthy after graduation, but I have daydreamed and wondered what I would do if I somehow came into money. Although I'm not interested in driving fancy cars or wearing designer clothes, there are some luxuries that I could really use. I would like a better stereo, for one thing. I've always envied the ones with red lights that go up and down with the music. And it's possible that if I had a more expensive stereo, WMMR wouldn't come out on almost every station. I've also always wanted a Five-Star notebook. Five bucks for one notebook is a bit out of my range, though. I don't think they're worth a buck a star. Obviously, I have not set my sights too high. But there are a few things I would do if I became really wealthy that may be considered a bit excessive. These are my dreams: First of all, I'd have a pie fight at some point. You know how they always proceed on television: One person drops a pie, it hits someone, that person throws their pie, a fight starts, and at the end the camera focuses on a really distinguished person licking the creme from his lips. I always wanted to lick pie cream off my face. But pies are way too expensive to throw around. I discovered this in the summer when I visited the pie mecca of Central Jersey, a supermarket-sized store called Delicious Orchards, which is just up the road from the Grand Union and the Shoprite. The store is filled with fresh fruit and pies of all kinds, and behind it are acres of berry-picking terrain. It's a great place, but one key lime pie there costs even more than a Five-Star notebook. However, when I'm rich, I'm going to buy thirty of them and have a pie fight with my closest friends, who will, of course, be bought and paid for. The next thing I'm going to use my millions for will be an essay contest. I have this one all planned out. When I was in high school, I entered every essay contest I could think of, and I soon learned that your essay had to fit a certain type to win. For instance, some veterans' organization always had a speech contest about a topic such as "what freedom and democracy means to me" or "America's role in the twenty-first century." We listened to tapes of the previous years' winners in our English class, and I've never heard tushey-kissing like that anywhere else. According to the speakers, there were no problems in America, only rolling plains and vast oceans that lap upon our shores. Our school held a preliminary round of the contest, and I was one of the unsuccessful entrants. The student whom our school nominated to enter the regional competition that year began his essay with "Ask not what your country can do for you " and ended it with something from the Declaration of Independence. A real researcher, that one. After our competition, several teachers mentioned that while my speech was better documented and written, the winner's speech was more likely to win if it made it to the nationals. The winner himself acknowledged this. "Just wave the flag and you're in," he told me, grinning. During my senior year, I did go to the regional finals. I was competing against two young men in suits. Afterward, the three of us stepped outside and each of our teachers conferred with the veterans until they all agreed on a winner. I didn't win, and my teacher later told me what the veterans liked and didn't like about my performance. One of the things they said was, "They like to see girls in long dresses and heels." Not having been in a PC world yet, I didn't really think much about this, except to fume about how much I hate fancy clothes. But we'll discuss that later in the show. I was sick of the phoniness of it all. I didn't like tailoring my speeches and clothes to a bunch of humorless codgers who still had bumper stickers that said, "I'm not Fonda' 'Hanoi Jane.'" I swore off fascist essay contests a while ago, but every now and then I see one that makes me curious. Last year I read in a Pennsylvania magazine that they were offering schoolchildren an essay contest called "Why Pennsylvania history should be taught in every school in the state." When I'm rich, I'm going to brainwash schoolchildren with my own topics, such as "Why I should think for myself" or "Why being a decent person is more important than wearing Air Jordans." I'm probably also going to give a scholarship every year to a Penn student who enjoys creative writing and submits an essay detailing his or her interests. I'll probably pick the person who is most like me. Who cares? It's my money. Now, back to the issue of clothes. A main stimulus of my fantasies of success is the idea of being able to wear anything I want to work. I read a newspaper article this summer about what to wear to your new job. If you have a male boss, it said, you can get away with wearing cheaper brands of clothing, but if you have a female boss, your job is to watch what she wears, mimic her style, and only buy from the most expensive stores, because she'll know. Perhaps I don't want a job after all. To begin with, when you're female it takes long enough to get dressed as it is. Look to your left. Look to your right. Half of the guys in the room are wearing baseball caps. They didn't spend a half-hour on their hair this morning to impress everyone else. But women are expected to do this as a matter of course. If you are a guy and you're wearing a baseball cap right now, turn to the woman next to you and say, "I'm sorry. I just didn't know." Anyway, when I'm rich, I'll wear what I want. Nice clothes, but not $400 suits. If anyone says anything about it, I'll fire them. As someone once said, "The best revenge is success." Perhaps some of my thoughts of wealth are linked with thoughts of revenge. But at least you know they're not linked with thoughts of greed. I don't need a lot of luxuries. What I want, really, is enough money to prevent people from abusing theirs. That, and a couple of Five-Star notebooks, and a stereo that plays more than one station. Then I'll be happy. Caren Lissner is a senior English major from Old Bridge, New Jersey. Storm and Stress appears alternate Wednesdays.

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