KEY POINTS:
He's a smart little bugger, this guy I know. He's always got a wisecrack about someone and never fails to look over my shoulder in case there is a better-looking woman to talk to, the curse of all women over 40 when there are others of our species born in the 80s present.
I like him though, and once I have his attention he always gives me something to think about.
At present he is refusing to pay the recommended retail price for anything.
"It's just a recommendation, after all," he announced. "Just offer cash, and see what deal you get. You'll always get one. We're in a retail downturn, for goodness sake!" he chortled.
Which is how I came to present myself at a furniture shop determined to get a good price. I had decided that our fifth child, the 10-year-old, would be the recipient of a room make-over.
Our other children had never had such a thing, coping as they did with various bits of furniture acquired from junk shops and the Month of Doom during which all four had to share a room during renovations.
This child would have a proper room any little girl would be proud of. Her brother painted the walls a shade of green we all thought would be much lighter from the card but which she pronounced "perfect". And then it was off to buy the furniture. Brand new furniture. The first pieces of new furniture ever to enter our house.
We found four matching pieces, which would be another breakthrough for the house, and then I told my bemused daughter to stand back and prepare to be amazed as I negotiated a bargain.
"It's just a recommended price, we're in the middle of a retail downturn, for goodness sake!" I assured her.
As we left the shop she felt the need to reassure herself.
"We will get the furniture, eh, Mum?"
"Yes, just not now," I snapped, having failed Negotiating 101 after being informed the furniture was already a very good price.
I've never been good at bargaining, even in foreign countries when stall holders are expecting me to offer a quarter of the price. I just feel you should pay what they ask, it seems polite.
The only time I've ever struck good deals was when I edited magazines and participated in that heinous chequebook journalism. I could be ruthless because the money didn't belong to me.
The day I failed to bag my bargain, I figured taking a man in might swing the deal and tricked one into coming with me.
"How are you at getting a deal?" I asked, as I steered him into the shop.
"Terrible," he replied wishing we could just go and have the glass of wine I had promised. We got an offer of 5 per cent off, but only after my friend shook his head and said rather dramatically: "Come on, we can find a better deal elsewhere!" before doing a spectacular stomp out of the door. I felt we could get more.
The next day I took my husband, who advised that we arrive right on closing. "It's psychological," he assured me. "They've had a long day and think to themselves, 'Well, at least I will have made one good sale today'." I left him to it.
"Nothing," he announced after half an hour in the shop. "How they ever hope to move that stock I have no idea."
We spent the last half-hour before closing looking at every other furniture shop. "We'll teach them," we said, before getting a lesson in the hard realities of prices.
The next day I took my daughter and went back to the original furniture shop for the fourth time having realised that their prices were, actually, very good in comparison. Only we went to a different branch on the North Shore, such was my humiliation.
As I prepared to pay I gave it one last gasp. "I don't suppose you'll do a deal for cash?" I asked in a tremulous voice barely above a whisper.
"No our prices are already very good," she replied as she prepared to stare me down.
I got out my credit card and prepared to earn lots of True Rewards points.
