By Dick Wolfsie
Guest Columnist

Where should we eat? That’s the question American families debate every weekend. Do you feel like Chinese? How long will the wait be? And, can Uncle Bob fit into a booth?

Dick Wolfsie

This week, I didn’t care about any of this. I just wanted to go someplace where we could use one of those restaurant coupons we get in the mail — or in zoo books, entertainment books or phone books.

Not because I am cheap. Okay, that’s part of it, but mainly because for the first time I wanted to feel like I actually saved money using one of these offers. Most of the coupons just sit in the kitchen drawer. I either forget them when we leave, or they’re for a restaurant 15 miles from the house and it hardly seems worth the effort for a free Bloomin’ Onion.

Typically, coupons give you several options, requiring some crafty figuring in order to know how to most efficiently use them, which is why we brought along our son who has a year of college calculus under his belt.

“It looks to me,” began my wife, eyeing at the coupons, “that we can get a free tavern burger as long as someone else also orders a burger.”

“Great,” I said. “Brett and I will each have a burger.”

“Hold it, Dad. I don’t want a burger. I eat them every day at school. I thought you didn’t want me to eat so much red meat?”

“Look, we just have to work together as a family. Okay, Mary Ellen, how about this? If one of us gets an Asian salad, the other gets a free salad, as long the second salad is the same or a lesser value. Which salad do you want?”

“I don’t like the salads here. I want the fish dinner.”

“You can’t have a fish dinner. There’s no coupon for a fish dinner.”

“Why are we eating out if we can’t get something we like?”

“Because once, just once, I want to show these restaurants that I am not a fool. They are not going to snare me into their trap. We will save money. I don’t care if we hate every morsel.”

“Hey, Dad, if mom gets the $14.95 fish dinner, this coupon says we get one to die for brownie. Let’s do that.”

“No, that’s exactly what they want us to do. That won’t save us a penny, because we never order dessert.”

“Okay, Dad. Here’s a coupon for a fried shrimp appetizer. But you have to order the John Wayne sirloin for $19.95.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea. Whattya think, Mary Ellen?”

I sensed growing dissension around the table.

“Here, Dick. This part of the coupon says we can get $10 off the check if we spend at least $50. Then we can order what we want. And what a concept — you know, enjoying what you eat.”

“No, that would make the final bill $40, and I want to keep dinner under 30.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea. It’s just a goal I set for myself, okay?”

Twenty minutes later, the waitress finally dared approach.

“We’ll have two spinach salads, of which one is free. And a black and blue burger for my son, who was a consultant on this project.”

“You know, Dick,” said Mary Ellen. “I changed my mind. I think I’ll have the ribs.”

The bill was $42. I didn’t speak to Mary Ellen the rest of the evening. But I can’t blame the expensive dinner on her. The coupons had all expired.