Bargain Basement

How could it give away such buys? Very easy—by doing a business in pennies and a profit in billions!
Jack Hanshaw was madder than a wet hen and his roommate, Ken Adaman, was enjoying his misfortune hugely.
Not a blame thing! snarled Jack, fiddling with the knobs of the television set. Not even static lines. First they give me a set without a plug-in cord, and now this one's got a no-good picture tube.
You get what you pay for, said Ken, laughing. I've warned you about these so-called bargains. But what's this about the plug-in cord?
Ken had been at work the day before, when Jack first brought the new television set into their apartment and discovered that omission.
I didn't see any point in saying anything about that last night, admitted Jack. After I bought the thing yesterday and brought it home, I found out it didn't have a cord to plug it in—not even a connection in the back for a cord. I took it back to them and they said something about the wrong kind of power and fixed it up for me last night.
You got stung, old buddy, said Ken, unwinding his long legs from the arm of the easy chair. They probably made it from junk parts.
It doesn't look like it, said Jack stubbornly.
It didn't. The television set was shiny and new-looking, although rather odd. With a thirty-five-inch screen, it was only about six inches thick, and it had a strange antenna of concentric circles on top instead of the conventional rabbit ears. There were only two dials, one for the channels (it was lettered instead of numbered) and one for off-on and volume.
I'd take it back and demand my money, said Ken.
I'll take it back, all right, but if they'll fix it, I don't want my money back. Guess how much it cost me.
Well.... Ken pulled a stubby pipe from his coat pocket and began to pack it slowly from a humidor on the chairside table. Knowing your bargains, I'd say about a hundred and fifty dollars.