On Consumerism: A tale of two malted machines

Courtesy of Nate D. Sanders
Now and then one can save money by spending more.

Sounds odd, but it’s true.

In 1951 my Aunt Estelle got married. She and her husband moved to a two-story house (with her parents on the second story) and soon enough raised a family. One of the kitchen gadgets she received in the early 1950s was made by Hamilton Beach. We always called it “the malted machine” because it was used to make malted milk shakes. We used to see identical models in ice-cream parlors. The ingredients go into a cylindrical chrome-metal canister, which is hooked onto the metal mixing machine.

In any case, her malted machine was metal, and through the 1980s it got used frequently. I remember my grandmother (who died in 1969) would lobby my mother and aunt to sneak raw egg into any malted meant for me. But if I spotted any egg going in, I wouldn’t drink it.

As an adult, I would continue to notice the malted machine. I last saw it in 2007 or 2008 when my aunt, recently widowed and with the kids married and gone, moved out of that two-story house. Living alone in it far from family wasn’t for her. She moved to a house a block away from one of her sons.

Contrast that to when my family moved into a house in 1969. We too acquired a malted machine. But by then the plastic revolution had begun. The machine’s canister was rectangular and made of cheap plastic, and got hooked into a cheap-plastic mixing device with metal blades. We used ours far less than my aunt used hers. Nevertheless, within a decade, cracks had developed within the plastic. Before it was 15 years old, the mostly plastic machine became unusable and was trashed.

Because my aunt’s machine was metal (and thus probably cost more), it didn’t wear out. My aunt’s malted-making days are now behind her, but I asked her this week what became of that machine. Turns out she eventually gave it to one of her sons.

Although it’s been in the family 70 years, that malted machine still works.

In late 1985, I bought a coffee grinder. I was on a tight budget (still am) so I didn’t splurge for the biggest and most expensive. But I didn’t settle for the cheapest. I chose a machine made by Krups, a manufacturer in Germany. It’s a quality machine. The only “flaw” is its small size, which made it affordable yet limits me to grinding only a small portion of beans at a time. But that’s okay by me.

Here we are 36 years later, and the Krups grinder still works as well as it did on day one. By spending a little more in 1985, I have spared myself from having to buy other coffee grinders over the decades.

Then there’s my wallet. As a young man, it seemed as if I bought a new – but cheap – wallet every two or three years. The last straw came in 1990 when I cut my finger on a sharp vinyl edge protruding from the wallet I’d been using. I’d had enough. No more cheap-as-possible wallets for me.

I researched the market and found a wallet from J. Peterman. Yes, it cost a good deal more. But boy, has that wallet lasted. No vinyl. No plastic. It’s made from the same leather as baseball mitts. That’s what appealed to me. So, just like an old baseball mitt, as it gets older the wallet gets more comfortable.

That wallet now is more than 30 years old, and it’s become a bit shabby but remains fully functional. However, because I plan ahead, back in 1990 I bought two such wallets, figuring two would last the rest of my life.

Later this year I’ll turn in my well-worn wallet for the identical but never used wallet I bought with it in 1990. And that one, I’m sure, will last however many years remain for me.

All in all, I’ve saved money by buying a quality long-lasting wallet rather than new cheap wallets every few years.

In 1993, I bought a desk for the first and only time. Made of solid oak. It’s going to outlive me. Two years later, a friend bought a desk on which to put his first home computer. He chose to save money by buying the cheapest desk available. It was made of particleboard. Or at least parts of it were. Other parts seemed to be made of cardboard. It didn’t last a decade. (Nor did the computer.)

Similarly, my tuxedo is about 30 years old. Also my raincoat.

Plus, when my widowed aunt with the malted machine moved out of her house, she gave me my uncle’s winter coat. It’s fur-lined and possibly 50 years old. And well-made. (My aunt’s kids and grandsons are too tall to wear it.)

Some cities are forced (by municipal statute or lack of funds) to award all contracts to the lowest bidder; so, say, a pothole fix might last only a year or two. Whereas a contractor whose bid is higher might provide a patch that lasts eight years. Thus, in the long run, spending more now could save a city money in the long run.

Of course, not every service or product that is priced higher is of better quality. As with all adventures in consumerism, let the buyer beware.

Remember, well-made products usually last longer.

And never buy a malted machine made of plastic.

Arthur Vidro is one of the Eagle Times’ recurring financial columnists.