The Phoenix Gazette
She barely stands 5 feet in heels, but put her behind shopping cart and Susan Samtur becomes a formidable force, striking fear in the hearts of checkout clerks. They see her peering from behind the cart, clutching a handful of coupons, and they know they're defenseless. A decade after many consumers wised up and began beating manufacturers at their own game by taking advantage of coupon and refund offers, many have dropped out. It was too time-consuming. People had better things to do than stash cash-register tapes, clip proof-of-purchase seals off containers and scrounge coupons. Samtur, however, is a diehard coupon queen who continues to play for keeps. The Scarsdale, N Y , woman made a visit to a south Tempe Bashas' store recently, where she grabbed a cart and happily set off down the well-stocked aisles, announcing, "Today, I'm going to get everything free." It's a shopping binge, a gorge at the grocery, a blowout known as a "supershop" in refunders' parlance. Two hours later (it usually doesn't take that long, but Samtur was chatting as she shopped), the diminutive shopper triumphantly holds up a 2-foot-long register tape that totals $113 85 Two carts hold 11 brown paper bags plus economy-size bottles of assorted cleaning products tucked around the edges. Samtur's cost: a measly 4 cents. About once every three months, Samtur gathers coupons good for free products that the has redeemed from manufacturers, and gets a load of groceries free or close to free for the grabbing. Even when she's not supershopping, however, she cuts about 40 percent off her weekly grocery bill at Gristedes market bock home in Scarsdale. But more than saving money on laundry soap and breakfast cereal, refunding has provided a comfortable living for Samtur and husband, Stephen, both former New York City physical education teachers. She has written two books on the subject and publishes a bimonthly newsletter called Refundle Bundle, which advises subscribers on the latest hot refund offers. The couple also operates a membership coupon club. (To drum up interest in the enterprise, they're offering $10 in free coupons of your choice for the price of a self-addressed, stamped envelop. Send it to 106 S. Central, Elmsford, N.Y. 10523.) In the early '70s, before anyone has heard of supershopping, Samtur, was teaching at an elementary school in the Bronx. One day, while fixing herself a cup of Lipton's soup in the teacher's lounge, she noticed the box carried a $1 coupon offer. She mailed it in and started eating more soup. In return, she received $1 coupons. Not long after, she noticed a similar offer on a box of Kleenex and began scavenging the empties from her colleagues' desks. In 1973, she began sharing refunding information in a newsletter run off in that smelly violet ink schools used before the days of photocopying. She sold it for 75 cents an issue, and by the end of the year, Samtur went to the bank, plunked down $10 or $15 in change and opened a business bank account. Refunding was a hot topic in the inflation-ridden 70s; within five years, she had equaled her teaching salary. That same year, the savvy shopper was seen on a local New York news show buying $137.18 worth of groceries. She paid only $7.07. Consumer expert Betty Furness witnessed the feat and invited her to do it again for a "Today Show" segment. Samtur received 150,000 letters within days from people clamoring to know how they, too, could make a killing at the checkout counter. She, in turn, made a killing telling them how. Refundle Bundle circulation shot up to 400,000 at its peak. In 1979, her husband took a sabbatical from his teaching job to help with the business He hasn't gone back to school yet. Refunding fever has cooled, however. Between better economic times, more women working and manufacturers making it harder to take ---------------
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