Human behavior and the leftover gene

When they were handing out genes, some of us got the leftovers.

We’re easy to spot. Anybody with the leftover gene would rather eat the remnants from last night’s supper than anything else in the refrigerator. We take the runt of the litter. We also like other other kinds of leftovers.

Me, I’m wearing leftover hearing aids. A friend and her brother mistakenly ordered two sets for their dad. They gave me the leftover pair. They’re my favorites!

Sometimes we are targeted by marketers. To wit, the name Harbor Freight was coined to appeal to the leftover mentality. You envision stuff left on the dock, like unclaimed baggage at the train station. Right?

Per Harbor Freight’s history, that was indeed the idea:

"The company began as a mail order tool business that dealt with liquidated and returned merchandise.” Thank you Wikipedia.

Harbor Freight still bases its appeal on being cheap but now enjoys an identity all its own. If you hear the name Harbor Freight, you now think of an HF store — not stuff left on a dock.

Nevertheless, the original marketing was truly aimed at all of us with the leftover gene, and it worked.

Back to food.

If you bake bread, sometimes you end up with failed loaves — like maybe if you forget to knead the dough. You think that never happens? It happens.

If you’ve got the leftover gene, you don’t throw away the bad loaves. You stick them in the freezer thinking maybe you can use them as weapons or footballs or whatever when the need arises.

Imagine this scenario:

Gladys was in the dark kitchen when she heard the midnight burglar. Rather than flip on the light, she opened the freezer door, grabbed her frozen loaf of sourdough and hid behind the pantry door. She could see the beam of his flashlight. She held her weapon high, bringing it down on the crown of his head with all her might the moment he passed in front of her. He crumpled. She hit him once more for good measure.

OK, here’s what really happened:

For a special dessert for the birthday of daughter Rachel (who absolutely doesn’t have the leftover gene), we wanted bread pudding. Instead of stale bread, one of my failed frozen loaves came in handy and produced some of the best pudding ever.

The dessert mixture didn’t all fit in the dish. The surplus went into a smaller dish. When Rachel left, she took the leftover bread pudding! Rachel never takes extra food home from our house, especially not leftovers.

If you can get an avowed non-leftover person to take a leftover, you’ve essentially achieved the impossible.

OK, the extra bread pudding wasn’t exactly a leftover, but close enough. I’m counting it.

A random closing thought:

Despite some negative connotations, the straightforward name Leftovers could work nicely for various franchises — cars, clothes, furniture, pets up for adoption, surplus whatever.

You heard it first right here.

Just don’t expect it to be a restaurant.

This article originally appeared on Wichita Falls Times Record News: Human behavior and the leftover gene