Arthur retreated to his basement, the glow of his monitor illuminating a face determined to find a loophole. He discovered Amazon’s "Subscribe & Save." By committing to a monthly delivery of jerky he didn't yet need, he shaved another 15% off.

"Twelve dollars for three ounces?" Arthur whispered, staring at a bag of premium Wagyu Black Pepper jerky. "That’s $64 a pound. That’s more expensive than a decent steak."

One afternoon, Arthur sat on his porch, chewing on a piece of discount scrap that was approximately 40% gristle. He looked at his grocery receipt, then at his phone.

Arthur took a bite of his homemade creation. It was tender, perfectly seasoned, and cost him roughly total.

He found his first win in the aisle. The "Great Value" or "Signature Select" bags were often $2 cheaper for the same weight. Better yet, he discovered the "Value Size" trick: buying the 10oz mega-bag dropped the price per ounce by 15%. But it still wasn't enough. Arthur wanted his jerky for pennies, not silver.

"Eye of round roast," he muttered, looking at a digital circular. "$4.99 a pound."

Then came the . He found websites that looked like they were designed in 1998 selling "jerky ends and pieces." These were the ugly bits—the scraps that fell off the slicer. They didn't look like art, but they tasted like victory. He bought a five-pound clear plastic bag of "Hickory Scraps" for $40. At $8 a pound, he felt like a king.

The fluorescent lights of "Big Al’s Discount Bulk" flickered over Arthur like a spotlight on a man with a mission. He wasn’t here for the $0.50 off detergent or the dented cans of tuna. Arthur was a jerky addict, and his habit was costing him a mortgage payment every month.