The Decline Of The Coffee Shop

My local coffee shop is on the decline and I blame the mining companies.

Mining companies have perfected the art of non-value-add, the business practice of taking a raw product and selling it as a more-costly raw product. For example, iron ore and coal is dug out of the ground, sorted, loaded onto a ship and sold. In the future this simple task will no doubt be further simplified where mining companies instead sell container ships of dirt, providing a lucky dip for the customer to find what minerals lay within.

My local coffee shop is heading down this same path. A regular latte-with-two is now a latte with two teaspoons of undiluted sugar laying dormant at the bottom of the cup. It provides an interesting drinking experience, where the first 90 per cent of the coffee tastes like a sugarless skinny latte, and the last 10 per cent tasting like a coffee mixed with soft drink. Is it really too much in asking the barista to perhaps, while adding the sugar, to maybe give it a little bit of a stir? I mean, I am not asking them to whip up eight egg whites to form  a lemon meringue, all that is required is some count-clockwise wrist action applied with a touch of vigour.

Ordering a serve of toast with butter sees the same business practice employed: two pieces of dry toast, a package of rock-hard butter, and a plastic knife as flexible as a Chinese gymnast. The end result can be catastrophic.

The other day I was locked in a battle of trying to budge the immovable object of butter with the irresistible force of the plastic knife. Eventually the laws of physics prevailed where every action has an opposite and equal reaction: the block of butter lost its purchase on the dried toast surface, the plastic knife recoiled from its 90 degree bended angle and slung the block of butter across the coffee shop like a yellow rectangular bullet, hitting an old-age pensioner right between the eyes. Hasty negotiations saw me avoid being charged with attempted manslaughter via the unlawful use of a dairy product.

It’s hard to fathom where this madness will end. Grocery stores no longer scan your products upon purchase, petrol stations no longer fill up the tank for you, bank tellers no longer hand over your hard earned in person. Whether this phenomenon is good for the consumer is debatable, but it does provide a welcome relief for writers. You see, instead of attempting to end this article with an extremely witty and insightful conclusion, I can now get away with just providing raw letters and let you the reader wtire eth edngni ylosuerf.

Logical Dad

For a Logical Dad the raising of daughters can uncover conundrums which never would have sprouted in any other environment. 

And I am not referring to ideological conundrums such as the discovery of multi-syllable conversation, comprehending the difference between shampoo and conditioner, nor grasping the fashion theory of ‘never be seen in purple and green’.

No, the greatest logical conundrums arise in the fixing of broken toys and, as with most things in life, the simplest of toys are typically the hardest to fix.

Barbie’s Aero Jet cargo door got jammed this morning, creating a major delay in her itinerary.    Not a problem for Logical Dad whose analytical skills were drawn upon in noticing the fuselage was slightly bowed.  A quick flex here, a little twist there, and two minutes later Barbie was able to ‘do’ lunch with Strawberry Shortcake.

Tying Strawberry’s hair into pigtails then presented an interesting Catch-22 conundrum; looping the hair-tie twice resulted in a circumference large enough to pull through the golden locks, but was then insufficiently tight to hold the pigtail in place; looping the hair-tie thrice times theoretically resulted in a hair-tie sufficiently tight to hold a pigtail in place, but unfortunately left a circumference too small to actually pull the hair through.  After much head-scratching and thought, an adaptive use of workshop pliers with chopsticks soon had a pig-tailed Strawberry joining Barbie for a club sandwich.

The final fix for the morning should have been the easiest.  On a recent trip into the city my daughter had obtained a modelled-balloon unicorn, fashioned by The Balloon Man who had dedicated his life in the art of turning long skinny balloons into exact replicas of the animal kingdom.  Unfortunately the hind legs had become untwisted, thus transforming the unicorn into a long-faced seal.  Not a problem for Logical Dad, surely all it will take is a few balloon twists to get the fabled animal back on its feet.

Forty five long, internally-expletive-laden minutes later I had to admit defeat.  No amount of studying, internet research or algebraic formulas could lead me to a solution.  The best I could muster was a Picasso-like co-joined hind leg, protracting at 45 degrees from the unicorns body to more resemble an externally burst appendix.  My daughter recognised the failure in Logical Dads attempt, pitied me with a pat to the head, and suggested we cover up the unsightly deformity with one of Strawberry Shortcakes long pleated dresses.

Undeterred, I did later redeem myself in finding a FBT Entertainment deduction for Barbie to claim on the luncheon, and began constructing a new capital depreciation schedule for her Aero Jet.

 Hey, Balloon Man, let see you try fixing that logical tax conundrum.

 

Airline Exit Row Seating

The law of nature states that the early bird gets the worm.  For those who live in the world of weekly airline travel this law translates to read the early, crafty bird gets the coveted Exit Isle Window seat.

Some will argue that Business Class covers the most coveted positions on an aeroplane, what with the wider armchairs, complimentary Chardonnay, and hot towels to wipe away the tears of travelling joy.  However, while those fortunate enough to afford such seats are to be admired with envious glances, they also gain no respect from their underlings in Cattle Class.

Obtaining an Exit Isle Window ticket is how respect is gained.  The seat costs no more to purchase than a regular economy ticket, cannot be pre-selected on a smart phone, and is not allocated based on any characteristic as defined by the Anti-Discrimination Act.

No, those who snag the coveted seat have done so via guile and cunning, by treating every passenger ahead in the baggage drop-off line as a potential threat and thus acting accordingly.  Like skipping the baggage line, wandering over to the vacant Service Desk, and feigning a foreign language with an introduction of “Mi scusi, uno Exito Window ticketo por favour”.

Admittedly, this selection process should perhaps be made on a more democratic level given the responsibility of the position.  Take myself for instance, I have a pretty good hit-ratio of Exit Isle Window seating, but in all reality I should be last passenger picked.   The steps involved in the opening of the emergency door confuses me each and every flight; pull this handle down, pull up and across with another handle, tilt door clockwise to an angle of 37 degrees bottom-side up.  The last time I successfully performed these actions, in that order, was at a Wiggles concert.

And further, my ability to fluke the above procedure would be dependent upon the not-so minor requirement of being awake during an emergency.  A household of young children, plus an early morning flight, plus headphones, equals only one result when I fly; asleep within 20 seconds of takeoff, comatose, not to arise until landing at the arrival destination.  Unless coffee is to be served prior to an emergency landing there is a very good chance I will miss the whole shebang.

So next time you board the 6am Sydney to Brisbane, and notice my dormant bones in Seat 14A, suggest to the friendly hostess that you would like to raise a No-Confidence Motion on my seat allocation.  I will be only too happy to swap seats with you and count the jealous glances as I stroll up to Business Class.

Uno Chardonnay por favour.

Review of the Mundane – My Deskphone

In my next instalment of my so-far statistically unpopular series, Reviews Of The Mundane, I will go out on a limb to review a product which none of my readers will exactly have, but all of whom will probably have, sort of.

Confused?

Yeah, join the party, as I have no idea where this review is heading either, for the product up for analysis is my current desk phone, the venerable Leader 1026HS.

As part of my preliminary research for this product I sent the following email to the manufacturer in regards to the naming of this product:

Hi,

I am interested in a product of yours, the Leader 1026HS Business Desk Phone with Memory, and am enquiring if this particular product has superseded the legendary Leader 1025HS?

Kind regards

Guido Pip

Thus far, no reply. Lets see if that situation changes by the end of this review.

Ok, so onto the phone itself… Jesus, where the fuck do I start with this… ok, lets go with the basics… the phone itself seems to be of a standard desk phone size, with the phone talking thing on the left hand side, which in turn is connected by a standard curly cord to the main phone box, which in turn houses all the operating buttons on the right hand side.

What exactly is that talking thing technically called anyway, is it known as the handset? Yeah, I think it is called the handset. Because its the positioning of the handset, in relation to the buttons, where my analysis must first begin with the following question:

Why is the handset on the left hand side, and the buttons are on the right hand side?

I am assuming this configuration is ‘Industry Standard’ as a majority of the population are right handed, thereby making it easier for the right handed person to punch in the numeric keys positioned on the right hand side of the phone. However, while I have yet to finalise my exhaustive community survey, my initial analysis also indicates that those whom are right handed are also right eared.

Right eared?

I may have must inadvertently created a new phrase, but by ‘right eared’ I am referring to the observation that most of the population whom are right handed will also use their right ear to listen with on the phone.

I am right handed, and I am also definitely right eared. I have actually tried to use my left ear for phone calls. However, while technically my hearing is of the same level in both ears, for some reason I feel like I am unable to listen with the same degree of sensitivity with my left ear.

It results in the situations where I am trying to listen to a conversation in my left ear, and at the same time the voice in my head starts going “… you know, you really are right eared… why are you trying to use your left ear… you cannot write with your left hand… you cannot kick a ball with your left foot… so why the fuck do you think you can use the phone with your left ear… you will miss some vital information of this conversation… probably some important medical information…”.

And, of course, in the meantime I have missed large sections of conversation with my doctor who ends our conversation with “…. and so Mr Pip, if you follow those strict and precise instructions, the large and embarrassing rash should fade away in a few days”.

Its crazy.

Anyway it is due to this right handed/right eared phenomenon where, in my professional opinion, the positioning of the handset on the left hand side makes little workplace efficiency sense.

You see, to make a phone call with the current configuration, the operator must pick up the phone with the left hand, cross over to hold it against their right ear, while simultaneously attempting to dial the numbers with their right hand. Its similar to that common coordination test where you attempt to pat yourself on the head while simultaneously rubbing your stomach in a circular motion; sure, after 10 seconds you can get the rhythm going, but its hardly second nature.

And in the dog-eat-dog business world where corporations are seeking to find that elusive 1% operating advantage over their opposition, this seemingly trivial matter could theoretically result in a lost sale to a rival company all because the salesperson got their left and right hands mixed up in placing that telling phone call.

Call me a business revolutionist, but surely there is a competitive edge to be made by placing the telephone key pad on the left hand side, and embarking on a quick training exercise to teach sales people how to punch in the numbers using their left hand.

Surely?

Moving along, lets look at the other main features of this phone, namely all the buttons on the now-proven inefficient right hand side of the phone.

The numeric keypad dominates the button real estate, using the standard 3 x 4 number format with the ’0′ dead centre on the forth row, bookended by the Asterisk (*) and the Pound/Hash (#) buttons.

Everything here seems to be in order… oh wait, its missing a number 4… how the fuck did they miss that… oh no, there it is, below the 1 and above the 7… yep, ok, everything is in order.

However, it does beg the question, what is the Asterisk button used for. Is it really that special to receive a button all on its own?

The Pound/Hash button I can understand, as nearly every automated voice response program asks the caller to hit the # button when entering in credit card details, membership details, etc. There is no debate with this button, its a no-brainer, not up for discussion.

But the Asterisk, now that is one fuckin contentious button. Who is responsible for this. Was it Alexander Bell?

Did the Bellster have some sort of secret patent or trademark on the Asterisk so that he received a commission every time it was used? It sounds plausible, very plausible, and if true I take my hat off to you AB, you salty dog.

Yeah, it would have been a good decision by Al to patent the Asterisk and include it on the keypad, but not a decision sooo good that it automatically eliminates him from any sort of criticism.

You see, if Belly really showed some vision… showed some chutzpah… showed some balls perhaps… then he would have replaced his beloved Asterisk with instead the button which has defined the 21st century.

Yes, the Smiley Face.

I am not sure what Bello’s personal relationship was with the Asterisk, probably love/hate I’d imagine, but this is a classic case of an incorrect business decision made due to using ones heart over the head.

I mean, I’m sure the Bellmeister made some decent cash from his Asterisk patent, but imagine the coin his family would be raking in today had he patented the Smiley Face.

Ok, the Bellbernator invented the phone, we’ll grant him that, it wasn’t a bad invention in retrospect, but you can’t help but be a little critical of him on the Asterisk v Smiley Face decision.

As for the other buttons on the phone, the top section is dominated by the automatic dialling functions. 12 buttons in fact. On my particular phone, which is second-hand, all the buttons are clear of any labels apart from the top 4 which are identified as Browny, McLeods L/L, Marcho L/L, and McLeods Mob… I am tempted to hit the button labelled Browny to see if Browny actually answers the call… if Browny doesn’t answer then questions will have to be asked.

There are other green buttons on the phone, some with clearly interpreted labels such as Mute, others not immediately clear such as Shift, so I went to the manufactures website to gain some additional information:

Multi Function PABX Telephone Feature-rich, the Leader 1026 is the ultimate in value.

Now with a dataport, this headset compatible telephone handset is packed with features such as on-hook dialing, 24 memories, as well as an Integrated Message Wait Lamp (MWL), the Leader 1026 combines value, quality, and reliability.

Reading the information I must admit to feeling quite a bit chuffed and internally proud, in the knowledge I had in my possession a phone consider as the ultimate in both value and of which was pack with features.

Not just a few features, or many features, but absolutely packed. No room for any other features, thats how fuckin packed it is.

To justify the claim the website goes on to list the listing of packed features, including

• Headset/Speaker switch
• Integrated Message Wait Lamp (MWL)
• Volume control
• Mute key
• Ringer volume control

These are all great features, and the various volume controls really do hit the spot for me. I don’t know how they packed two different types of volume control into one telephone, but you know, that is the world we live in these days, it really is incredible what they can do.

The one item though which stands out from the packed pack (pun intended), is the Integrated Message Wait Lamp, or MWL.

Now I am fairly cynical type of reviewer. And cranky. So when I see lamb dressed up as mutton it really gets my goat up and I immediately think to myself;

“… yep, there it is again Pip… fuckin Marketers… ignoramuses, the lot of them… taking a simple feature and trying to pass it off as some sort of whiz-bang super-technical invention by giving it an acronym… fuckin MWL… what a load of old codswallop….”

But I am a professional I must let the facts tell the story, so I had another look at my phone for a closer inspection of this MWL.

I didn’t pick it up immediately, as I was assuming the MWL to be some sort of garish monstrosity with the letters ‘MWL’ stamped all over it in a bolded pastel font, but upon closer scrutiny there it was; at the top of the phone, integrated seamlessly into the lines of the outer edge, something which looks akin to a small red vehicle brake light covering, subtlety curved at the top to give it definition but not too much as to scream of over-design…

What is that?

Its mystical.

Its alluring.

Upon closer inspection I discovered its mischievous little secret, in that behind this red brake light covering was not just one single light bulb, not just two, but three… THREE!!!.

Sweet Jesus, I had to know more.

Back to the website where the full functionality of MWL, and these three lights, were explained:

… an Integrated Lamp (to indicate in-use, ringer and voicemail)

So one light comes one when the phone is in use, another light comes in when the phone is ringing, and yet another light comes on when there is a voice message for me (presumably a co-worker leaving a message of congratulations for choosing the Leader 1026HS).

I am not religious, not by a long stretch, but I can see the metaphorical link to the Three Wise Men in this design, with each of the Men carrying a similar but different message.

Genius.

We could go on to evaluate and praise the other features of this phone, like the Headset/Speaker Switch that is just teasing me to activate repeatedly, but for the purposes of keeping this review concise and Tablet-friendly (yeah, thank you Steve Jobs, for curtailing my creative juices) we must wrap the chickens up on this one.

Check the email to see if there has been a reply from the manufacturer re the superseding of the legendary Leader 1025HS.

No reply.

But frankly, I do not care, for as good as the Leader 1025HS was, this new Leader 1026HS really is the telephone du jour of the communication age.

I give the Leader 1026HS a full 6 Flashing Lights out of 6 Flashing Lights.

Reviewing the Mundane – Sugarfree Chewing Gum

In the next instalment of my series, Reviews Of The Mundane, I am revisiting an old friend whom is a perennial product favourite of mine and I hope of yours too: of course I am talking about Wrigley’s Extra Peppermint Sugarfree Gum.

What will follow in this review could easily be, and quite frankly should easily be, written off as the irate rantings of an old fool who casts half-accurate facts and observations.

This I admit, without denial.

But there is one observation which I do want to punctuate, and thus will emphasise now:

Gone are the days of unwrapping a stick of gum and giving it a good old hearty chew just for the sheer pleasure of it.

For as we are about the see, the decision to chew gum in 2011 is not just a simple matter of deciding to chew gum. Roll the tape and lets have a look at the packaging and associated paraphernalia.

In picking up a package of Wrigleys Extra Peppermint Gum the first word that enters my delinquent mind is clean. This is one clean looking package with white and silver bordering, swaths of cool blue shading, minimal fuss, strong lines, and a nice big logo. There is certainly no misconception that I am buying anything other than Wrigleys Extra Sugarfree Gum.

There are two items of interest, though, which I must nitpick; one minor and one major.

First with the minor. This product is not called chewing gum, but is instead referred to as just gum.

Gum.

Its one of those words which you don’t really pay too much attention to initially, particularly when used in a sentence with other words surrounding it, and more particularly when prefixed with the word chewing. However voiced on its own, and vocalised repeatedly, it starts to sound a little weird.

Gum.

It doesn’t sound right. The fact it rhymes with bum doesn’t exactly help either in constructing an image which is appetising.

Maybe if we look up the definition of gum on Wiki it will put everything back into its rightful place:

Chewing gum is a type of gum traditionally made of chicle, a natural latex product, or synthetic rubber known as polyisobutylene, which is a non-vulcanisable form of the butyl rubber (isoprene-isobutylene) used for inner tubes or to line tubeless tyres. For reasons of economy and quality, many modern chewing gums use rubber instead of chicle.

Yeah ok, if I wasn’t engendered to gag at the thought of consuming gum before the clarification, then I am not exactly chomping on the bit (to pardon the pun) now.

Thankfully, there is also that major item of interest to instead divert my mind from attempting to justify any pleasure in chewing old car tyres. Under the large bolded text of EXTRA is the claim of helps keep teeth and gums healthy.

The claim is backed up by an icon of what looks to be a depiction of a shiny and healthy 2nd Molar, Position 7.

At least it looks like a 2nd Molar, Position 7. Its is actually depicted with fairly steep, and unnaturally pointy, enamel walls much like a Lateral Incisor, Position 2.

It is indeed strange how a professional outfit like Wrigleys could get this depiction so incorrect… is it an exaggerated 2nd Molar, or is it some sort of funky twin Lateral Incisor … if I had a 2nd Molar which looked like this I would be checking the backs of my hands, at the cycle of every full moon, for the tell-tale sprouting of additional Werewolf hair tufts… or is it instead an obscure caricature of a porcelain lamb with its head cut off… no, it must be a tooth… maybe its a cartoon tooth with legs… elsewhere on the package is the depiction of a disposable cartoon coffee cup with arms… possibly the Artist is taking a lot of drugs… can it really be that hard to render the depiction of a tooth correctly… all it has to look like is a normal, regular molar.. i mean, its not as if the Artist was required to produce an accurate reproduction of the fuckin Mona Lisa… are they joking?

Mmm, might have to let that one go and get back to the heart of the message… helps keep teeth and gums healthy… because the overarching issue, for a historically carefree gum user like myself, is this:

I now am not thinking about enjoying a good stick of gum, but instead thinking of dental hygiene.

Gee, thanks for that Wrigleys, why don’t you also include a claim stating the chewing of gum may also prevent my pancreas from leaking, just to give me something else to worry about at night.

Fuck.

For an addicted gum chewer who suffers from the heady combination of medical paranoia, coupled with a penchant for the spasmodic over-consumption of illicit drugs, its enough to do my head in.

In order to avoid any additional guilt trips of needing to visit the dentist and/or seek specialist pancreas advice, lets turn to the back of the package where hopefully we will be presented with happy, carefree pictures of someone blowing gigantic gum bubbles in the middle of a green meadow covered with clover and dandelions…

And there it is, in all its glory, an interproximal plaque pH graph with the X-axis representing time in seconds…

… A FUCKIN INTERPROXIMAL PLAQUE PH GRAPH WITH THE X-AXIS REPRESENTING TIME IN SECONDS!!!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, can a man not, after a hard days work, come home to put his feet up, reach of for a packet of gum, and freely chew away like a grazing fat bovine without the constant reminder to check his interproximal plaque levels?

Is it too much to ask?

You see, I consider myself to be an educated man, keeping abreast of politics and new science discoveries, have travelled to various parts of the world to expand my horizons, etcetera, etcetera.

Or should I say I did consider.

As I am now wondering if I may have bumped my head at some point in time, dozed off for a good year or so, and therefore missed the public education announcement on the explanation of interproximal plaque.

I examine the graph in detail and notice the Y-axis is numbered 1 to 7 to indicate the levels of interproximal plaque, with 1 representing plunging deep into the DANGER ZONE and 7 representing cruising in the SAFE ZONE.

My paranoia immediately sets off an internal spiking alarm which has me grabbing for my worry beads, with inner thoughts of “… fuck, I am in the DANGER ZONE… the same as what happened to Maverick and Goose in Top Gun… fuck, this ain’t good… Goose died after getting blown out of the DANGER ZONE at high speed… he widowed his wife and kids… and Maverick recovered, only to then join Scientology… fuck”.

Then the arrogance in me takes control of the wheel and has me yelling at no one in particular, “… what… just level 7… just level 7… fuck off to level 7… I need to reach a level higher than 7 for christ sakes… pfft, level 7 is for fuckin amateurs… I am going to chew 16 sticks of gum simultaneously and reach a level of at least 9, if not 10″.

I then grab a brown paper bag and start hyperventilating.

These fuckers at Wrigleys are really starting to mess with my head.

Further panic sets in as I search for other information on the packaging, in attempt to hopefully steer my racing mind in the direction of fluffy pink bunny rabbits or the like… oh, here is some additional information:

• Eat Drink Chew Extra
• The ADA supports chewing sugarfree gum like Wrigleys Extra
• Australian Dental Association Inc
• New Zealand Dental Association Approved
• Recommended by Dentists
• Keep your country beautiful, dispose of chewing gum and packaging properly

….. holy fuckin fuckity fuck fuck fuck!!!

Breathe in, one two three. Breathe out, one two three.

Breathe in, one two three. Breathe out, one two three.

Ok, get a grip my son, lets just remain calm. A man who does not understand a problem is a man whom is devoured by the problem.

Clear your mind and use The Force, oh Grasshopper, clear your mind and go to Google… type in Wrigleys Sugarfree Gum… hit the search icon thing… Wrigleys website… go straight to the information page titled Benefits Of Chewing to put my mind at ease…

You love to chew gum because you enjoy the taste and it freshens your breath, but did you know there are many other benefits to chewing gum?

No… no…. there is no need for the question mark. There is nothing else to it. Its chewing gum and that is it. You chew it, enjoy the burst of flavour for the first 5 seconds, if you are rich you spit it out and grab another stick, if you are poor you just put up with chewing stale gum, and that is fuckin it.

Oh… what is this… what is this scroll bar thing… there is more text… why is there more text?…

In fact more than two decades of research has shown that chewing sugarfree gum provides oral health benefits, and emerging science suggests potential wellness benefits in stress relief; focus, alertness and concentration, and weight management.

Oh, Good Lord, someone please shoot me now.

… recent research shows chewing gum results in an improvement in overall performance on multi-tasking activities while under a laboratory stressor… study found that students who chewed gum showed an increase in standardised math test scores and their final grades were better compared to those who did not chew gum… first-ever study found that chewing sugarfree gum increases alertness, improves performance and can reduce anxiety during mild stress by 16%…

I mean, what do you do. Its madness. Complete and utter fuckin madness.

Fortunately for me, and those around me, medication is on hand. One of these, three of those, a couple of the ones with the smiley faces as they are really good, and wash down with a tall, ice-cool glass of Frangelico and lime.

Ah, take me home, country road, to a place were I belong… Denver, you salty dog, you know me all too well.

So now, on to a review of the actual gum.

I must admit, unfortunately, to possessing a palate akin to a camel with rampant gingivitis, so I cannot rely solely on my own taste buds for this review. But in my time I have watched many wine tasting television shows, and thus reckon I can come up with something pretty accurate and honest, so here goes:

This gum has definite pepper the nose, displays some mint notes, is long on the tongue, and ends with a clean tannin-free finish.

Well done Wrigleys, ’cause as at the end of the day you really can’t ask more from a stick of gum than that.

Review of the Mundane – Dishwasher Tablets

As a precursor to this review I must first indicate that, even though I am approaching middle age and have lived a large portion of my life during the Industrial Age, I am a Johnny-come-lately when it comes to using the dishwasher as an everyday convenience. 

In fact I may well be in that minority group of the western worlds population whom, inadvertently, lost their virginity before they stacked their first dishwasher. 

Maybe.  It would be a close call.

I highlight this fact because, as I collated the vast wealth of information for this review, it become increasingly clear to me I had no idea just how apparently competitive the dishwasher tablet market was.  And I say ‘apparently’ because this assumption is made not with evidence of any market data,  but instead is assumed due to the sheer amount of advertising hoopla on the tablet packaging.

Its difficult to know where to begin reading when presented with a box of Finish Max in 1 PowerBall Dishwasher Tablets.  The box itself, containing 13 tablets, is encased in a cardboard wrapper which presents a concoction of icons, colours, sparkly artwork, bolded fonts, exclamation marks and fine print. 

Lets just remove the wrapper, fold it out, and start from the top with the first item.

The official name of this version of dishwasher tablet is Max in 1.  Now, after some research on the Finish website it becomes clear this is not the only dishwasher tablet in the Finish range, as also included are:

Finish Quantum

Finish All in 1

Finish Powerball 5 in 1

Finish Classic

It is quite fortuitous that I happened to have found this product under my sink, with the benefit of someone else making the decision and purchase.  Because had I been asked to pop out to the store last week to purchase the tablets then there is a high chance I would still be standing in front of the isle shelving at this very moment, nervously scratching my balding head, in an attempt to work out just what the fuck the difference is between Max in 1, All in 1 and 5 in 1.  And this is without even throwing into the equation the Quantum and Classic versions. 

How will this madness end.  Are our good friends at Finish going to halt the product development of their tablet range just because their latest incarnation is named Max in 1? 

I mean, you can just imagine in the depths of the Finish Products Laboratory the Scientists will soon make a breakthrough in adjusting the tablet chemical formula, creating a clean so brilliant that consumers will need to wear protective sunglasses to unpack their dishwasher.  With unabated excitement these Scientists will then run upstairs to the Marketing Department, request everyone to put their pens down, and giggle like overachieving school kids as they unveil their new baby. 

The new tablet is demonstrated to the eager audience and is proven to be an incredible breakthrough. 

Initially there is wild applause, high-fives and pats-on-backs, before the Head Marketing Manager puts a hand in the air, calls for calm, and then goes on to inform:

 ”…  shoosh everyone… now just calm down… i know its exciting but lets have some quiet… ok, now, first of all, praise where praise is deserved, I don’t know how they have done it but our Scientists have performed a miracle here today… a god damn miracle… I never thought I would see the day when the Max in 1 would be bettered… not in my lifetime anyway… not in my childrens lifetime… however, without wanting to be the bearer of bad news, there is just no way I can authorise the release of this product to the market… we have already stretched the boundaries of imagination in asking the public to believe the All in 1 could be superseded by the Max in 1… Jack, do you remember the backlash we copped over that one?… fuck yeah, it was a nightmare alright, we looked like a pair of dicks at that product launch… and now you want me to go back to the public and ask for their consideration yet again?… to what, believe Max in 1 is to be superseded by the Infinity in 1… or the Super-Dooper in 1… fuck me, what do I look like, the Devine Second Coming?”

It indeed does not leave Finish a lot of room to move in the naming of their next generation of dishwasher tablets.  Not that Finish hasn’t already shown that it will quite willingly eat its own young, so to speak, when it comes to promoting their new products.

Such a case-in-point is clearly demonstrated in the next advertising item on the packaging, where the claim is made for a Superior Clean in Every Wash!*.

Now, I am always sceptical about the use of the asterisk in advertising.  Particularly in conjunction with the exclamation mark.  Asterisk plus exclamation mark equals a fuckin red flag in my book.  To my mind, if the news is good then it will be advertised with bells and whistles and no asterisk, and if the news is bad then there will be an asterisk with the fine print hidden somewhere on the packaging…. somewhere obscure… and there it is.  It took some looking but I finally found the asterisk explanation, written in a font so small I was considering contacting my optometrist to request use of their specialised optical equipment to help me make out the letters.  I think it is an O, but it could be a Q.

The asterisk definition reads as follows:

*vs Finish Classic, Finish 5 in 1 or Finish All in 1.

Mmm, All in 1…. All in 1…. gee, I don’t generally believe the paranormal phenomenon known as Déjà vu, but I have this vague recollection of reading or writing Finish All in 1 just a few moments ago…

… those sneaky, sneaky fuckers.

Ok, in defence of those at Finish, they are not the only company whom have used the ploy of making a performance-based claim which initially conveys a message of trouncing the opposition, only for the fine print to reveal the comparison is actually confined against similar products of the same company. 

What I don’t understand though, is the logic of using this ploy… well no, that is not entirely true.  I think I understand the first level of the ploy, in that Marketers have the arrogance to assume a reasonable portion of their target consumer group are either too lazy, or too gullible, to check the fine print of their marketing claim.  How does that saying go, you can fool all of the people some of the time but not some of the people all of the time… no wait, that doesn’t sound right… however that saying goes it suggests that a section of the community will not find out you are trying to fool them.  Hopefully the same section of the community whom have dishwashers.

But what of the remaining portion of the community, the ones like me who have nothing better to do than read the fineprint on dishwasher tablet packaging.  How am I meant to interpret this disclosure?  If I had been a long term user of Finish All in 1, comforted in the knowledge I was using the crème de la crème of dishwasher tablets, to then discover that the very same company had created another dishwasher tablet which was superior in every way, what am I to think?

Am I to applaud Finish’s R&D capability in creating a product which is superior in every way to the product I had been using for years? 

Or am I to take the view that I have wasted hundreds of dollars in paying for a product which is inferior in every aspect of performance, and would have been better off using dirt to wash my dishes with instead. 

Should Finish make a statement in public apologising for misleading Finish All in 1 users, in that the product never really did include All at all, but included only some of all, but hey, here is a new product which really does have it all… no really, it does, and it even has more than All, it has Max.

Apologies for the pun, but it leaves a bad residual taste in my mouth.

And it doesn’t stop there.

The trademark PowerBall.  That red ball which sits in the middle of the tablet.  What is that?  Nowhere on the packaging is there any explanation of what this is, nor of what it does.  All we have to go on is the assumption of:

a) its red,

b) its a ball,

c) its called a PowerBall, and so

d) it must be assumed to contain special powers

If the above is correct then my question is this: if the PowerBall is so special, then why have the actual tablet part?  Why is the entire product not just one big fuckin red ball? 

Unless there is some sort of scientific evidence indicating the PowerBall is made from material which is extremely rare, like Kryptonite or similar, then I remain standing on the side of the fence which suspiciously views the PowerBall mystery as a large steaming pile of horseshit.

Ditto the next ridiculous claim.  As mentioned in my introduction, the packaging is a plastic box, containing 13 tablets, around which a cardboard wrapper encases. However, according to the advertising literature, I was premature in claiming the plastic box was merely a plastic box, because if I am to believe the good folk at Finish then this seemingly innocuous plastic box is in fact a PowerPack… a PowerPack to preserve the tabs power for superior cleaning wash after wash and easy storage….

SWEET JESUS, IT’S A GOD DAMN PLASTIC BOX!!!

These advertising guru’s at Finish really have some… what is the Spanish word for balls… cojones?… yes, these advertising guru’s must really have some large fuckin cajones to be peddling this material.

There are many more examples, but as a final item of analysis there is one other claim which again includes a footnote:

Superior cleaning wash after wash and the most convenient to use#

I looked hard for the fine print to explain the #. 

Very hard. 

To the point where I eventually wrote an email to the makers of Finish, via their website, as to the location of the explanation:

Hi,

I have purchased a container of Finish Max in 1 Powerball dishwasher tablets and, after reading the packaging information material, have noticed the following claim:

“Superior cleaning wash after wash and the most convenient to use#”

I have no fundamental reason not to believe the claim, but being the sceptic I am, I went looking for the details/evidence as denoted by the # symbol used.

I couldn’t find it.  Anywhere.

Would it be possible please to inform of where I can find this information on the packaging and/or elsewhere?

Kind regards

Guido Pip

To their credit the Consumer Relations Representative emailed me back within a matter of hours. 

The # reference, came the friendly explanation, can be founded above the red banner titled “No. 1 Recommended”, below which all dishwasher manufacturers who endorse the product are listed.

I had another look.  I still couldn’t see the actual #.  It may be too small for my eyes to pick up, just like my dog talks to me in a voice which is too high for my ears to hear, but I am willing to accept this decision because my oh my, what a fuckin list it is. 

There are manufacturers on this list whom I have heard of, decent brand manufacturers who’s endorsements ring true to me.  And there are also manufacturers whom I have never heard of before but I believe they must be good.

Like, for example, Bauknecht.

I have never heard of Bauknecht before, but to me it seems like a name which just has to be associated with a superior product.  I just can’t imagine someone telling me that they had bought a Bauknecht product and it failed to live up to their expectation.  Its too clinical sounding to not be any good.

And that really has to be the overall conclusion to this review.  Ok, I might have nit-picked over a few things, taken liberty on assumptions and poked fun at Finish for comedy reasons, but at the end of the day if their product is good enough for the likes of Bauknecht, then its certainly good enough for me.

6 PowerStars* out of 6 PowerStars* for this product.

Reviewing the Mundane – Pitted Prunes

I love anything which comes in a shiny purple package, so its no surprise the bag of Sunsweet California Pitted Prunes virtually leaps off the grocery store shelving and into my greedy little hands.

Much like the humble Prune inside, this packaging really provides a wallop which belies its size, so lets break it down to see what we have.

The first advertising blurb to grab my attention is the large sweeping heading which reads “Smart 60 Calorie Packs”.  This grabs my attention not because it is written in a large bolded font-type, thus dominating all other font-types on the packaging, but because the message successfully strokes my frail ego. 

This package contains not just 8 individual packets of a mere 60 calorie-count Prunes, but contains 8 individual packets of smart 60 calorie-count Prunes.

I am smart.

Buying these Prunes is a smart decision.

I have earned my place in society to buy these Prunes.

No doubt other shoppers will see me reach for this product and whisper under their breath “gee, that is a smart purchase, this young man really is at the top of his game”. 

And the purchase would also not escape the attention of the 16 year old cashier either, whom would normally be thinking about anything other than working the cash register.  It is easy to imagine the cashier having their dream-like trance interrupted with the thoughts of “… milk… gee that was a good party last night… bread…. I think I may have drunk too much…. frozen peas…. can’t wait until next week’s party…. a bag of beans…. maybe that girl will be there again…. Smart 60 Calorie Pitted Prunes in 8 Individual Packets… oh… wow… fuck dude, you really are at the top of your game”.

The only major issue I have with this particular blurb is the specific reference to the 60 Calories per individual serve.  Now I know its 2011, and information accessibility of dietary heath has never been easier to obtain via the internet, so therefore I should be well aware of the calorie intact for a person of my size, body mass index and shoe size. 

However, even though I do consider myself to be vaguely aware of these heath statistic fundamentals, I really still have no idea how many calories per day I should be consuming.  I mean, are all calories the same regardless of source?  Are 60 calories of Prunes exactly the same as 60 calories of fried chicken?  And what about the forgotten kilojoule, should I be paying attention to how many of these I should be consuming?  I have recollections of the kilojoule being the #1 metric for energy valuation, and now it seems to be relegated to obscurity.  Is the relationship between the calorie and the kilojoule the same as that between Facebook and mySpace?  Should I just focus on the former and completely write-off the later as being a passing fad?

Surely it would just be far easier if these health-awareness labels were advertised using an example of relevance?  I mean, instead of advertising the individual packets of Prunes as containing 60 calories each, wouldn’t it be far more relevant if the advertisement read “You can eat 26 individual packets of these Prunes, each day, for 6 weeks straight, and still maintain the same arse size”.

Moving on, the other major advertisement real estate grabbing for my attention are three icons depicting further health benefits of the simple Prune. 

The first icon represents Antioxidants with an accompanying picture of a heart. I am not sure exactly what an antioxidant does.  I assume they beat up on those pesky oxidants.  So I am willing to trust the picture of a heart is indication that this is a good thing.

Ditto the next icon advertising the Prunes are 99.7% Fat Free, depicted via the silhouette of a person striking a dance pose, with one hand reaching for the sky.  I am ok with this one too as I understand the power of advertising and its ability to mislead the young and impressionable.  So, if they are going to depict a role model who is 99.7% Fat Free, then better to depict a role model who is dancing and reaching for the stars, rather than depict a waif Super Model with champagne in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

The last icon is a bit obscure though, as it is titled Fibre and shows a picture of what looks to be a piece of Wheat.

This is a tricky one.  I have never been a Prune farmer, but I am pretty sure Prunes have nothing to do with Wheat.  However Fibre is generally regarded as a main derivative of Wheat.  And Fibre is basically attributed in helping to regulate your digestive track. 

One can only assume, therefore, the Marketing Manager from Sunsweet decided that consumers will make the Seven Degrees of Separation connection from Wheat to Prunes, and thus overrode the Artists initial suggestion that the icon depicting Fibre should be a picture of either a colon, a track of bowel, or perhaps a pair of underpants with skid-marks.

And while we are analysing misleading depictions it should be noted that this packaging for California Pitted Prunes does in fact display no actual picture of a Prune, but instead depicts a grouping of Plums.  So again, with the reasoning that most consumers would be able to make the connection between Prunes and Plums, we must assume the Marketing Manger has stepped in here to overrule the Artist. 

In this instance you really have to feel sorry for the Artist. I mean, you can just imagine the Artist has spent night and day rendering their caricature of some attractive Prunes, adjusting the angle and shadows, getting the wrinkles just right.  Then after many iterations the Artist finally presents their proud results to the Marketing Manger.  The Marketing Manager, in turn, takes one look at the rendering and proceeds to call all other staff into the office for an emergency meeting.  Placing the desk phone on speaker-mode, the Marketing Manager then asks the Artist to immediately call the President of Sunsweet to enquire why the decision was made to exit from the company’s well established Prune market, to instead completely change direction in attempt to tap into the very small but potentially very lucrative market for Swollen Tree Frog Testicles.

Misleading icons aside, all in all it makes for a very informative and attractive front packaging.

Thankfully, while the back packaging is busy with information, it generally is just a repetition of the advertising already discussed, plus the standard Nutritional Information table listing quantities of various minerals per 100g like Sodium, Vitamin A and Potassium.

Apparently the listing of Potassium, and the gram percentage value, in this simple table was not sufficient in advertising the magnitude of its importance. Therefore approximately 1/4 of the back packaging is devoted to comparing the Potassium percentages between Sunsweet Prunes, and the reigning Potassium Champion, the Banana.

For those consumers whom process information far more efficiently though pictures rather than words, included is a coloured Horizontal Bar Chart indicating a gram of Prunes has far more Potassium than a gram of Bananas.

As they say in the Advertising world, the Horizontal Bar Chart does not lie, and so its quite plain to see the Prune kicks the arse of the Banana in the high stakes of Potassium percentages. 

How the fuck the Banana was ever universally labelled as the Potassium King in the first place is hard to fathom and, quite frankly, a national disgrace. Just how many Potassium-deprived consumers have sat down to eat Banana after fuckin Banana to replenish their Potassium levels, when all along they could have just popped a few Prunes and continued on their merry way?  Its bullshit.

The Prune has so much Potassium there is compelling argument to call for an immediate world-wide revision to the Periodic Table Of Chemical Elements, where the current symbol of K representing Potassium should be instead replaced with a picture of a Prune.

Immediate.

Based on this revelation you would have hoped that Sunsweet, recognising the advertising power of the Horizontal Bar Chart, would had just left it at that.

But no.  They got greedy.

In addition to the Banana/Potassium bar chart comparison, they felt the need to take it a step further by making the following preposterous claim:

“Thats right, just one gram of Sunsweet Prunes delivers more potassium than one gram of Bananas.  So move over fresh fruit, its time that the once humble Prune takes its rightful place as natures ultimate convenient and nutrient-packed snack”.

Ok, now this is gilding the lily just a tad too much.  Its one thing to put the Potassium myth to bed in publically dethroning the Banana.  That’s fair enough.  Fuck the Banana, its had it pretty good for a long, long time in riding on the coat-tails of this misconception.
What I do have a problem with, however, is Sunsweet taking this innocuous fact and somehow leaping to the conclusion that the Prune is some sort of super fruit, in trumping all other fruits, to become the undisputed convenient and nutrient-packed snack.   It would be akin to Tom Cruise coming out and announcing that he has a better head-of-hair than George Clooney, scientifically substantiating the claim, and then taking it to the next level by declaring he is therefore the worlds greatest actor.  Its ridiculous.

Just off the top of my head, I could name five other fruits which could all feasibly vie for the title of natures most convenient and nutrient-packed snack. 

I mean, hello, calling all Marketing Managers at Sunsweet, have any of you people ever heard of the fuckin Apricot Delight?  Its has Apricots, Coconut and Sugar, shaped into uniform rectangular blocks to allow for convenient slicing and/or stacking.  Fuck me, maybe Sunsweet should first learn to walk before they run in initially convincing the world that the Prune outpoints the Apricot Delight in vital nutritional and convenience metrics, before making such outlandish claims.

Luckily for Sunsweet, though, all is forgiven when it comes time to actually eat the Prune.

Now, I choose this particular brand of Prunes not just because I enjoy a good Prune, but because I appreciate the packaging of the Prunes into 8 separate mini-packets, which contain about 3 Prunes each.

And again its not the amount of Prunes per individual packet which I appreciate either, not to discount that three Prunes is probably the optimum balance between satisfying the Prune hankering and overeating like a pig. 

No, the major reason I like this brand of Prunes, and its packaging format, is the simple fact that I do not have to physically touch the Prunes to eat them.

There are a small number of  foods which I place into the category of ‘great to eat but squeamish to touch’.  Fish is one, cantaloupe is another, and possibly lycees is a third (the oyster equivalent of the fruit world).

The individual Prune packets allows me to tear a little hole in the top of the packet where I can then squeeze the Prune through to eat, a bit like squeezing the very last remaining portion of toothpaste from its tube, devouring it without needing to touch its slimy, wrinkly skin.

Using this method of consumption it is fortunate, and possibly there are those who claim God designed it this way, that the Prune is one of those foods which tastes just as good regardless of how it is presented.  Squeezing it through a little hole of a packet may turn the Prune into a distorted little wrinkly purple sausage, but it tastes just as dandy all the same.

So there you have it: attractive packaging, informative bar charts, an outrageous claim, and finger-clean consumption of fine Prunes. 

I give the Sunsweet California Pitted Prunes a mark of 6 Stars out of 6.