Signed, Hermetically Sealed, and Delivered
Have you noticed things are getting harder to get into and I’m not talking about colleges? I just bought a new lipstick and, for my protection I’m sure, it had no less than two, plastic-encased side adhesive units, rendering the package safe in case of all-out germ warfare or nuclear attack.
And CD’s? Don’t the record companies get that it’s not itunes, Limewire and file sharing that have practically put them out of business? It’s those frustrating, hermetically sealed CD coverings that have thwarted their sales efforts, forcing those of us who previously thought downloading referred to loading the washing machine while bending over, into procuring our music on-line.
I knew my purchasing habits needed to change the day I was attempting to open a new CD I’d acquired – Joss Stone, just for an interesting side note – while I was attempting to also answer the phone, have a thought, and chew gum. For those of you motivated types out there, you call it multi-tasking, using lots of positive tone. Here’s what I call it to overuse an overused Icarus metaphor: Flying too close to the sun.
Here’s the simple version of what I thought I would do; open the CD. Here’s what actually ended up happening.
As I tore into the vacuum-wrapped celebration of aeronautical engineering with my teeth, having failed in the task when using my hands, I jogged over to the phone, tripped on our three dogs, who were sitting at varying height levels according to breed dominance, managed to pick-up the phone shouting, “Hello!” followed quickly by, “Oh, no!”
I then dropped the receiver where it first hit the sideboard, careened off the mop, then lightly bounced off of the three dogs at varying height levels, according to fleetness of feet and their individual ability to sense impending danger. While no animals were hurt in the eventual opening of the CD, (unless you count the massive plastic cut on my hand webbing), I was sweaty and my indignation flared.
Liberating a CD should not be a death-defying experience and it certainly gives a whole new meaning to the term “CD release.” I figured there must be thousands of forums addressing this packaging issue, accounting for a multitude of reported household injuries. I was more than a little surprised when I launched into an Internet search at which time I typed in, “packaging injuries,” and there was no research on the topic of the danger that lurks when opening one of these hazards. Where’s the outrage? The outcry? The hue and cry? Hugh Grant?
And perhaps I wouldn’t have noticed this trend of overly engineered casings so much if, in a purchasing one-two-three punch, I hadn’t immediately acquired a new curling iron as well.
Once again, for the third time in as many days, I found myself searching for all manner of objects that may be utilized by people with two gashed up, but mostly useable opposable thumbs, in order to gain admission into something I wanted to use, hear, or touch.
Therefore, I have a message to all those retailers out there who seem to perennially scratch their heads over diminished sales statistics because they’re absolutely sure they’re providing the type of products we want and they just cannot figure out why we’re not buying what they’re selling.
I don’t need freshness. I don’t need more plastic than the average Hollywood actress possesses. What I need is access, so why not make the products as easy to open as, say, a pop-tart? Now, that’s a solution I can sink my teeth into.
Have you noticed things are getting harder to get into and I’m not talking about colleges? I just bought a new lipstick and, for my protection I’m sure, it had no less than two, plastic-encased side adhesive units, rendering the package safe in case of all-out germ warfare or nuclear attack.
And CD’s? Don’t the record companies get that it’s not itunes, Limewire and file sharing that have practically put them out of business? It’s those frustrating, hermetically sealed CD coverings that have thwarted their sales efforts, forcing those of us who previously thought downloading referred to loading the washing machine while bending over, into procuring our music on-line.
I knew my purchasing habits needed to change the day I was attempting to open a new CD I’d acquired – Joss Stone, just for an interesting side note – while I was attempting to also answer the phone, have a thought, and chew gum. For those of you motivated types out there, you call it multi-tasking, using lots of positive tone. Here’s what I call it to overuse an overused Icarus metaphor: Flying too close to the sun.
Here’s the simple version of what I thought I would do; open the CD. Here’s what actually ended up happening.
As I tore into the vacuum-wrapped celebration of aeronautical engineering with my teeth, having failed in the task when using my hands, I jogged over to the phone, tripped on our three dogs, who were sitting at varying height levels according to breed dominance, managed to pick-up the phone shouting, “Hello!” followed quickly by, “Oh, no!”
I then dropped the receiver where it first hit the sideboard, careened off the mop, then lightly bounced off of the three dogs at varying height levels, according to fleetness of feet and their individual ability to sense impending danger. While no animals were hurt in the eventual opening of the CD, (unless you count the massive plastic cut on my hand webbing), I was sweaty and my indignation flared.
Liberating a CD should not be a death-defying experience and it certainly gives a whole new meaning to the term “CD release.” I figured there must be thousands of forums addressing this packaging issue, accounting for a multitude of reported household injuries. I was more than a little surprised when I launched into an Internet search at which time I typed in, “packaging injuries,” and there was no research on the topic of the danger that lurks when opening one of these hazards. Where’s the outrage? The outcry? The hue and cry? Hugh Grant?
And perhaps I wouldn’t have noticed this trend of overly engineered casings so much if, in a purchasing one-two-three punch, I hadn’t immediately acquired a new curling iron as well.
Once again, for the third time in as many days, I found myself searching for all manner of objects that may be utilized by people with two gashed up, but mostly useable opposable thumbs, in order to gain admission into something I wanted to use, hear, or touch.
Therefore, I have a message to all those retailers out there who seem to perennially scratch their heads over diminished sales statistics because they’re absolutely sure they’re providing the type of products we want and they just cannot figure out why we’re not buying what they’re selling.
I don’t need freshness. I don’t need more plastic than the average Hollywood actress possesses. What I need is access, so why not make the products as easy to open as, say, a pop-tart? Now, that’s a solution I can sink my teeth into.
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