Now that I’m a freelancer, it makes me think about a lot of things differently. It’s particularly apparent when sale catalogues arrive in my mailbox, or when the newspaper is crammed full of Memorial Day sale specials. This is actually kind of fitting when I remember that after 9/11, we were encouraged to support the US economy by going shopping. Of course we’re already supporting the US economy just by being at war, since it turns out that so many of the trillions we’re spending are going into the pockets of private contractors. But I digress.

Being a freelancer means you’re never quite sure what or when your next job is going to be. So in the meantime, that new set of towels for the bathroom? They’re on sale, after all, bamboo or organic cotton from The Company Store… tempting as it is, I decide I don’t really need them. And that’s precisely the point. So much of what we buy, we don’t really need. But I’m such a softy I actually start to feel bad for The Company Store! They’ve pulled together an enticing collection of wonderful, earth-friendly products, gone to the expense of creating a beautiful, glossy catalogue (okay, so it’s probably not recycled paper and not quite as earth-friendly), and if people don’t buy their stuff, eventually they’ll go out of business. I mean, what if we all just stopped buying so much stuff? Wouldn’t all these businesses go under? It’s almost enough to make me order something!

When I lived on Queensbury Street in Boston between sophomore and junior year of college, I let this concern get out of control. Every day on my way home from my job at WJIB radio, I’d pass the jovial peanut man outside Fenway Park. The game usually hadn’t started yet, so nobody was buying anything and duh, I didn’t figure out that he probably was swamped once the fans started moving towards the park. So I felt sorry for him. Problem was, I have always hated peanuts and never liked soft drinks, and that was his entire stock. But heck, I started buying bags of peanuts and taking them home for Pat, my roommate, who was pretty busy with her boyfriend but once in a while came up for air and a peanut or two.

It didn’t take long before the peanut man started feeling compassion for me shelling out my handfuls of obviously hard-earned change (yeah, even then) and insisting I accept bags of peanuts and cans of soda at no charge. At this point I couldn’t very well say, “No thanks, I really can’t stand them,” so the bags started piling up on top of the fridge. (Pat took care of the soft drinks; she was working up quite a thirst.)

We both moved out at the end of the summer and I hope the next tenant liked peanuts. And now I’m going to put the lovely Company Store catalogue into the recycling bin.