I grew up in a household that had no choice but to pinch pennies. We were immigrants – and not the wealthy kind that came here for their PhDs – more like the kind that came with a single suitcase, barely speaking any English.

We lived month-to-month in a 2 bedroom apartment that housed 6 of us for 5 years before we upgraded to a 3 bedroom. If folks wonder why I have no concept of personal space, now you get it, right?

To make it all work, we clipped coupons – my favorite Sunday activity – and definitely went out of our way to find a deal.

My mom was the kind of woman who would stand in a customer service line for 15 minutes to get back 15 cents for an overcharge. My grandmother could not enter a Western supermarket without lamenting, “$1.99 for lettuce? You know I can get 5 heads for $1.00 at the Asian store. Why would anyone pay so much?”