Devotion: (n) a profound dedication; earnest attachment to a cause

I’m going to start burning coupons just for fun. They’re not really my thing anymore. I’ll be passing up every department store credit card offer from here on out. I just don’t need to save any percentages on my purchases. I don’t foresee myself ever waking up at 3:00a.m. on “Black Friday” again. It’s just not that important to me to beat up a bunch of soccer-moms for a discounted version Polly Pocket’s newest hat.

I’ve found a new place to put my crazy-bad transaction/negotiation skills to use. It’s all being utilized in my “Subway Rewards & Cash” card. The word “dedication” hardly describes my relationship with it.

It’s actually a pretty great program, if you’re not acquainted with it. What happens is that you earn half a point for every purchase at any of the Subway restaurants (a third of a point on days ending in ‘y’). They’ll gladly add it on to your card each visit for a recurring nominal fee of $14.99 plus tax, processing fees, and a small point-relocation charge.

When the time comes, you can redeem the points for whatever you wish. For just 2,300 points, they’ll spit in your drink. After you’ve earned about 15,000 points, you qualify for a kick in the shin from a Subway employee of your choice. If you make it up to 429,000 points, you can choose between having your tires slashed or drinking their bathroom mop-water. And if you can ever reach the milestone of 6,946,800 points (this is what I’m really working on), and it happens to be the fifth Tuesday after the ninth anniversary of your paternal grandfather’s first time trying sauerkraut, they let you lick one of the cookie wrappers.

I’ll know I’ve reached the pinnacle of my life when I finally get that Subway cookie wrapper! (Did I mention the regional manager has to step on it and you have to destroy the points card blindfolded with your teeth before they give it to you?) Yup. I’m committed.

Today I went to Subway for lunch. The line was short. The bread supply was well stocked. The sub-of-the-day was one of my favorites. The forces were obviously on my side. The sandwich specialist fabricated my meal just right: meat, toppings, condiment, THEN lettuce. I neared the register, picturing in my mind the blessed day when I can victoriously slosh my way towards the mop water.

I couldn’t help but listen to the conversation between the cashier and the lunch-client ahead of me in line. “Do you have on of our phenominal ‘Subway Rewards’ Cards? You can buy one for just 213 payments of 30 percent of your annual salary over the next 73 years at just a 415% interest rate, compounded daily. And Jared the-Subway-guy gets an extra cookie when you reach six million points!” The clerk had it down pat; she was clearly a card-holding employee.

“No thanks.” The adolescent patron replied. She looked confused. They just don’t teach these kids business skills like they used to.

I couldn’t help but chime in, as I could sense a revered third-of-a-point going to waste. “Can I have her point on my card!?” I could feel the anxiety welling as they both stared at me. The fate of that point hung fitfully in the balance.

But remember, the forces were with me. ME!

In one of those nearly life-changing events, I ended up with two meals worth of points on my card. All in one day! I could feel myself getting that much closer to my very own shin-kick. I imagined just where the lavish bruise could be. I considered sitting down at a booth to write some Hallmark cardish poetry about gratitude or something, but my spread was waiting.

So as you can see, I really don’t have to worry about the 50% off or buy-one-get-one-free coupons I could easily encounter for any other “restaurant” this side of the Mississippi. I don’t have to worry about “Kids Eat Free on Tuesdays” signs. I’ll be ignoring all free samples at Costco with an emphatic scoff.

For now, you see, I’m on my way towards the truest of true euphoric culinary adventures.