What’s Your Avocado?
By Redd Herring
My very best friend, Buck, eats half an avocado every morning. He’ll tell you it’s for his health, but in the end, Buck is a creature of habit and does not like to change his routine. He is also a frugal man, and those who know him will tell you that, when it comes to money, Buck is about as tight as the bark on a tree.
Buck buys one small avocado every other day when he does his shopping. As a retiree, he has time to visit the store often and just buy what he needs for a few meals, which he says lets him get fresher ingredients, but Ol’ Redd knows the real reason. Buck can’t stand to buy a week’s worth of food and then have prices drop! He watches prices like a farmer watches the weather forecast, so it didn’t surprise me when Buck went on a real rant a while back regarding the price of avocados.
“If they think I’m paying that, then someone is out of their mind!” Buck stomped in and laid a single grocery bag on the counter. “Insane!” He began unpacking all of his groceries for the next two days: one can of soup, which makes two meals if you add more water; two bananas reduced for quick sale that looked like they had liver spots; about twenty grapes loose in the bag to avoid paying for the weight of the stems; something he calls a “small roast” resembling about half a hamburger steak; and four eggs from a carton of six, because he only eats two a day. “It’s robbery!” He slapped the countertop and let out a sigh.
“No avocado?” I ask with a smirk, knowing that I just lit the fuse.
“Not at those prices!”
I had him on the hook now. “How much, Buck?”
“Seventy-eight cents!” he boomed. “Can you believe it? For a small avocado, a small one!”
“So, what’s a fair price?” I grinned.
He gave me a stern look. “No more than seventy cents. Not one penny more.”
“Or eight more,” I laughed. “Those farmers with Big Avocado must be getting greedy.”
“Hilarious,” he snorted as he put away his haul. “This is how it starts. Well, I’m not having it. I’m boycotting avocados!”
From that moment, the boycott was on. Every time Buck went to the store, he would text me an update. When the price broke eighty cents, I thought he might have a stroke. He took to talking to strangers in the produce aisle, urging them to rethink their trendy morning toast and try a nice, spotted banana instead, and since most of the shoppers were young and female, my worries moved from Buck’s health to me having to bail him out of jail!
One morning, I placed my penny jar on the kitchen counter where Buck was eating breakfast. He says he eats standing up to aid in digestion, but it doesn’t hurt that this makes purchasing a dining table and chairs unnecessary.
“What’s that for?” he asked while wrapping half a spotted banana in a piece of foil that he had used solely for that purpose for the last month.
“For you, my friend,” I beamed at him. “Go to the store and buy avocados to your heart’s content. My treat.” I opened my arms wide and gestured at the jar as if I had just laid a pile of gold at his feet. “You’re welcome!”
“Nope,” he shook his head, “it’s the principle of the thing. Nothing over seventy cents.” Buck stood his ground, and he kept at it for a long time.
One morning during week eight of the Great Avocado Boycott, a text came through in all caps “I DID IT!”. When he got home, Buck proudly showed off his small avocado, purchased for sixty-three cents. He had broken them! My friend was so proud that he sent a picture of that avocado to all nine contacts in his Jitterbug large-button flip phone, after I showed him how to attach a photo nine times in a row.
The next Sunday, Buck sat down to watch his favorite NFL team, which I will not mention at this time, because Ol’ Redd does not share that same feeling. He flipped through channel after channel, getting nothing but static.
“Where’s the game?” Buck asked with a confused look.
“I cancelled the TV package.”
“Why in the world would you do a dumb thing like that?” He began to fidget.
“The price went up, and I’m not paying any more for it than I already was,” I answered.
“I’ll pay the difference,” Buck began to pace as it was coming right up on kickoff time.
I shook my head, “Nope, it’s the principle of it Buck. This television thing is MY avocado now! If you want to support that highway robbery, I hear Bobby and Shirlene just got a satellite dish. It’s only six miles down the…”
The tires on Buck’s thirty-year old truck were already slinging dirt as he roared down toward the gate with his game snacks wrapped securely in tin foil.
So, what’s YOUR avocado?
Let me know at reddherring.author@gmail.com or just drop me a line with suggestions on a topic to discuss.
Until next time…
Redd
reddherring.com
reddherring.author@gmail.com