Frugal or tight: Where's the line?

Blogger J.D. Roth knew exactly when he crossed the line from frugal to cheap. His readers told him.

Roth, who writes the Get Rich Slowly blog, described his attempt to lower the cost of his favorite gourmet hot cocoa mix by using two tablespoons instead of the recommended three. Yes, the flavor suffered, he noted, but he saved 29 cents per cup.

Enough already, many of his regular readers responded.

"They said, 'J.D., you're on the edge. You're being cheap,'" Roth said.

My editor has a theory that the tightest tightwads are converts like Roth who find frugality belatedly after driving their finances into the ground. My editor's idea is that FCs (frugality converts) are more likely to try weird or extreme stuff than us BFs (born frugals).

(Yes, I know, nobody's actually born frugal. But some of us came to it so early, due to training and our own temperaments, that we might as well have been.)

I, on the other hand, contend that we BFs can go overboard in our efforts to save money, too. And there's a certain kind of BF -- a subspecies I call the secret millionaires -- who really take frugality to extremes.

How tight is too tight?

First, let's settle on definitions. What might seem perfectly normal to one "frugalite" (washing sandwich bags, say, or Dumpster diving) might seem beyond the pale to another. So how do you know when you've gone too far? I'd say tight is too tight when you:
  • End up spending more because you opted for cheap when quality mattered.
  • Pay too high a cost in discomfort, irritation or any serious reduction in your quality of life.

I point to the first time I bought a new car (which I did with cash, of course). It was a Saturn SL1 -- a "frugalista" fleet vehicle if ever there was one -- and I refused to pay for electric windows or electric locks.

Now, some posters on the Your Money message board think electric windows and locks are overrated. These thrifty folks are clearly part of my tribe. But my decision to save a few hundred bucks caused me continuing irritation and regret, especially as a reporter who often drove through bad neighborhoods realizing, too late, that she'd forgotten to lock all her doors.

Cheap, not frugal: A pitfall for the newbie

But that example is clearly outdone by Your Money message board poster "hapaai," who confesses to ruining three -- count 'em, three -- vehicle engines after skimping on oil changes.

"The first time that I did this, I was 20," hapaai wrote. "The second time that I did this, I was 23. (Same car, different engine.) I did it again when I was 40. Why can't I get it through my skull that forgetful people should not try to stretch oil changes?"

Hapaai's theory is that BFs "can segue into occasional or permanent miserliness but the reformed frugal are much more likely to suffer the bite of cheap."

"My frugality is not an innate thing and it's not tempered by practice," hapaai wrote. "I frequently shoot way past frugal and into the land of the cheap."

That land has been visited by several other FCs on the board, who professed regret at buying cut-rate tools and appliances.

"It took buying 3 cheap vacuums in 3 years to finally do some research and find one that while it cost more has actually lasted me 5 years (so far, still working great)," poster "Giggle Loop" wrote. "If I break that down to cost per year, the more expensive vacuum has been cheaper and less hassle than replacing a cheap one regularly."

Hoisted by their inner miser

The regrets among those of a BF bent tended to be different. Several bemoaned the fact that they bought quality and can't quite justify replacing the old microwaves, cars and televisions that still work just fine.

Poster "mwz_2410" yearns for a flat-screen TV, for example, and briefly rejoiced when the sound went out on a 27-inch monolith purchased a decade ago.

"I was thinking to myself, 'Woo hoo! I can get a new TV and not feel guilty,'" mwz_2410 wrote, "but then my BF (boyfriend) came up to visit me, smacked the TV on its side and it worked again . . . still have that stinking TV."

When it comes to extremes, though, none can match the folks who live modest or even less-than-modest lifestyles, only to die with millions in the bank.

I profiled a bunch of these folks when I was a reporter for the Los Angeles Times, including:

  • Gordon Elwood of Medford, Ore., who used a bungee cord in place of a belt, picked up soda cans from the roadside to redeem the deposits and died with a $10 million fortune.
  • Emma Howe of Minneapolis, who left $1 tips at restaurants and then bequeathed more than $20 million to charity.
  • Gladys Holm, a Chicago secretary who never made more than $15,000 a year but left $18 million to a children's hospital.
  • Anne Scheiber of New York, a former Internal Revenue Service auditor who wore the same frayed black dress daily and then left $22 million to a university that had never heard of her.

Frugality is a means, not an end

Few of those who knew these secret millionaires had any idea they were worth fortunes, thanks to their stock market investments. But only the last one truly would be my definition of a tightwad.

That's because Elwood, Howe and Holm seemed to enjoy their lives. They were friendly, sociable and charitable. Elwood started a foundation while he was alive, while Howe made small contributions to her church and Holm regularly brought teddy bears to children in a hospital's cancer ward.

They were quirky, to be sure, and perhaps felt a deep psychological need to hoard. But their failure to spend didn't seem to harm them significantly and ultimately benefited others.

Scheiber, on the other hand, lived in seclusion and was estranged from her family. It's hard to believe she had a happy life.

And there's where I'd draw the line between frugal and too tight. When your frugality isn't accompanied by joy -- if saving money has replaced living life -- then you know you've gone too far.