The Cost of a Free Breakfast

Hello, hello, and welcome to T.E.A. Time with Tayvin Bayless. If you’re joining me for the first time, welcome. I hope you find something useful here. And if you’re returning, welcome back. It’s good to have you with me again.

Have you ever gone into a store for one inexpensive item and walked out with a cart full of things you had not planned to buy? You saved two dollars on lunch and spent eighty dollars on everything else. A flawless financial victory for your budget.

Businesses know that a good deal can do more than make one sale. Sometimes the deal exists to bring you through the door in the first place.

That brings me to the term for today: loss leader. Loss leader.

The two words sound a little strange together. A loss is normally something a business wants to avoid, while a leader is someone or something that guides others. Put them together, though, and the image begins to make sense.

A loss leader is a product or service sold at a very low price, sometimes for less than it costs the business to provide. The business accepts little profit, or even a loss, because the offer attracts customers who may purchase other, more profitable things.

The inexpensive item leads people into the store, and that is where the word “leader” comes in.

Imagine that a grocery store sells milk for less than every other store nearby. Customers come for the milk, but while they are there, they also buy bread, cereal, fruit, and several things they suddenly remember they need after seeing them on a shelf. The store may lose money on the milk and still make money on the complete shopping trip.

A restaurant might offer a very inexpensive meal to attract new customers. A store might sharply discount one popular product during a holiday sale. A membership-based business might keep the price of a famous food item unusually low because it reminds customers that their membership provides good value.

Not every discount or free service is technically a loss leader. A free sample is a form of promotion, while a hotel breakfast is usually an amenity included in the price of the room. For something to be a true loss leader, the business must price that particular offer with little or negative profit in order to encourage other sales. From the outside, we do not always know the company’s actual cost or strategy, so it is better not to apply the label too confidently.

Here’s a quick example: I might stop at a warehouse store because they sell rotisserie chicken for 3 dollars less than the surrounding stores. It’s their loss leader, and if I leave the store with a cart full of groceries, that inexpensive chicken did considerably more than provide a good base for my chicken curry.

Keep that term in mind, because today’s story contains hotel breakfasts, hot dogs, free samples, and several reminders that I am apparently very easy to attract with inexpensive food.

It’s been an eventful month here in Utah, but the time has finally come for us to head back to Texas. This morning, we hit the road for the first part of our journey home. We’ve now made it to our hotel at the midway point in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

This happens to be the same hotel where we stayed on our way to Utah. That first visit was also our first time staying here, but I enjoyed the complimentary breakfast so much that I wanted to return.

Complimentary, in this context, means provided without an additional charge. You will often see the word “free” used to advertise complimentary services, although the cost has not magically disappeared. A hotel still has to purchase the food and pay the people who prepare it. That expense is part of running the hotel and may be reflected in the room price.

So, no, the breakfast is not free in the strictest economic sense. I understand that, but I’m willing to spend a bit more on our room so I can eat as much sausage and eggs as humanly possible before we leave tomorrow morning.

When I was a child, my mom, my grandparents, and I often went on road trips together in my grandparents’ green minivan. Whenever we stayed overnight somewhere, my grandfather looked for a hotel that offered a complimentary breakfast. There may have been a less expensive room down the road with no breakfast, but that was not the point. Breakfast was waiting downstairs, it was already included, and we were going to get our money’s worth.

Apparently, I absorbed that method of hotel selection more thoroughly than I realized.

Our hotel in Albuquerque is also close to a Sam’s Club, so we stopped there before checking in to pick up a few things for tomorrow’s drive. For anyone unfamiliar with the company, Sam’s Club is a membership-based warehouse store similar to Costco. Customers pay an annual fee for the ability to shop there, and many products are sold in large quantities at relatively low prices.

Emma and I love Sam’s Club. There are practical reasons for that, but one particularly compelling reason is the cafe. More specifically, the hot-dog combo.

For around a dollar and a half, you can get a hot dog and a large fountain drink that can be refilled to your heart’s content. There are also condiments and toppings available. I typically order the hot dog without a bun, then add four packets of sauerkraut and a mixture of ketchup and mustard for dipping.

Four packets may sound excessive. It is not. I’ve done extensive comparative testing, and I can assure you that it is exactly the right amount.

Sauerkraut, for those of you who don’t know, is cabbage preserved through fermentation. It is strongly associated with German cuisine, and I love it on hot dogs. That preference is another thing I share with my grandfather.

When I was younger, we often went to Costco on Saturdays. We would get a hot dog and walk through the store collecting samples of other food products. On busy shopping days, employees or brand representatives set up small booths and offered customers a bite of something they hoped to sell.

Those samples were not loss leaders because they were not products being sold at a loss. They were free samples, a different promotional strategy. The goal was to let customers try a product and persuade them to purchase the full package.

It is a sensible strategy. Once you’ve tasted a warm piece of pizza, a frozen dumpling, or a tiny cup of soup, buying a large box becomes much easier to justify.

For my grandfather and me, however, the samples themselves were often the main event. We arrived for a hot dog and several bites of food distributed across a very large building. Costco may have been hoping to sell us a box of dumplings. We were hoping someone near the next aisle had dessert.

Today, as I walked through Sam’s Club and prepared to spend the night at a hotel chosen partly for its breakfast, those memories began to collect. The hot dog and sauerkraut. The hotel breakfast. Even the minivan waiting for us in the parking lot.

I now drive my own van, carry my own membership card, and search for the same kinds of hotels my grandfather chose when I was young. None of those decisions feels especially important by itself. But together, they form a pattern.

That brings me to today’s second expression: rub off on somebody.

To understand the image, imagine touching a freshly painted surface. When you pull your hand away, some of the paint may have rubbed off on your skin. Part of what was on one surface has been transferred to another through contact.

In English, when a quality, habit, interest, or attitude rubs off on somebody, that person gradually begins to share it after spending time with someone else. The transfer is figurative, but the image is the same. Something from one person leaves a trace on another.

You might say, “My friend’s enthusiasm for running rubbed off on me, and now we exercise together every morning.” Likewise, a teacher’s curiosity might gradually become part of the way her students approach the world.

The expression can describe positive or negative influence. Good habits can rub off on you, but bad habits can too. Usually, the change happens naturally rather than through a formal lesson. The other person may never sit down and deliberately teach you anything. You simply spend enough time together that part of the way they live becomes part of the way you live.

English has used “rub off” for physical transfer for centuries. The figurative form, referring to personal influence, became established much later. It is a remarkably clear metaphor. Paint, ink, or dirt can transfer through physical contact. Habits and attitudes can transfer through human contact.

That distinction matters in my story. My grandfather never gave me a formal lecture about choosing hotels with breakfast. He did not present a detailed argument for sauerkraut or assign me a warehouse-store membership when I became an adult. We simply traveled together. We ate together. We spent ordinary Saturdays walking through Costco together.

Some of his habits rubbed off on me.

There are larger ways that people influence us, of course. They teach us values, help us make difficult decisions, and shape the direction of our lives. But their influence also appears in much smaller places. The food we order. The stores we visit. The vehicles we choose. The hotel amenities that somehow become nonnegotiable.

So here’s something to think about: whose habits have rubbed off on you? It might be a parent, grandparent, spouse, friend, teacher, or coworker. What small choice do you make today because you once watched that person make it? The next time you notice one of those habits, take a moment to remember where it came from.

Tomorrow, we have another ten and a half hours on the road. We’ve got a spacious van, books to listen to, and air conditioning to protect us while the Texas heat attempts to melt everything outside.

It is sad to leave so many people we love behind, but we will visit again. Emma and I have built a life in Texas, and it will be good to return to our routines there.

Still, sitting in this hotel and looking forward to breakfast, I am realizing that the life we built did not come from nowhere. It carries small traces of the people who loved us. Sometimes those traces appear in our deepest values. Sometimes they appear in four packets of sauerkraut.

The businesses may have brought me in with a good deal. My grandfather is the reason the deal feels like home.

And with that, my cup is empty. Thanks for joining me for T.E.A. Time. Until the next pot.