American Pie: Get Me Into Here
...On one level, I have a great deal of admiration for some of the packaging designers. I suspect their ingenuity got its start when they took up the Japanese art of origami. The things they can create from a flat piece of cardboard are mind boggling. Whenever I purchase a product packed in such a
container, the first challenge is how to get it open. The logical part of my brain says “This container, no matter how ingenious, is made from a flat piece of cardboard, and therefore all I have to do is carefully restore it to its original flatness.”
My illogical brain, the dominant part apparently, says “There is no way I can open this without destroying it.”...
John Merchant wrestles with cardboard and polyethylene.
To read more of John's well-packaged words please click on American Pie in the menu on this page.
Joseph Heller, author of the book “Catch 22,” and originator of the cliché, knew a thing or two about life. “Catch 22” succinctly captures so many of the daily frustrations we all encounter. A computer retail store where I regularly shop, generously claims that software products can be returned for full credit within 30 days, with the proviso that the package must be un-opened.
Well, I can imagine some circumstances where you might get the software home and then decide without opening it that you don’t want it, but isn’t it more likely you would have loaded it into your computer and then discovered that it didn’t suit your needs or that you just didn’t like it? Most modern packaging is designed in such a way that it’s impossible to open it without coming close to destroying it, and once you have battled your way in, just try to reassemble it like it was before you had at it.
On one level, I have a great deal of admiration for some of the packaging designers. I suspect their ingenuity got its start when they took up the Japanese art of origami. The things they can create from a flat piece of cardboard are mind boggling. Whenever I purchase a product packed in such a container, the first challenge is how to get it open. The logical part of my brain says “This container, no matter how ingenious, is made from a flat piece of cardboard, and therefore all I have to do is carefully restore it to its original flatness.”
My illogical brain, the dominant part apparently, says “There is no way I can open this without destroying it.” It’s hard to apply logic when you’re excited about trying out some new toy, but I do try to be patient, telling myself that there must be a correct sequence to unlocking the folds and insertions. But it’s not until I have reduced the box to looking like a well-played-with dog toy that I am granted access to the contents. Once laid out flat, it becomes perfectly obvious what procedure I should have followed.
Cardboard box packaging is one thing, but the real challenge is that sturdy, clear plastic stuff called polyethylene. Packages made from it are even more frustrating because you can see the product; you just can’t get to it. It is tough material, obviously designed to defeat the kleptomaniacs and thieves that prey on retail stores. It has the added advantage to the retailer of displaying the goods attractively.
The plastic blister is usually laminated to a cardboard backing, which looks as though you could just peel it off. Peel!? How about a hacksaw or a blowtorch. The most effective weapon I have found in my war against these blisters is a hefty pair of serrated kitchen scissors; you know, the kind you use to cut through chicken bones, sardine cans etc. Of course, by the time I have finished cutting and hacking, there is no way I can return the product to the store if it turns out to be the wrong size or whatever.
Polyethylene is also used for packaging the screws, nuts or washers you buy from your hardware store, but with a new twist. These boxes have a lid with a hinge molded as an integral part of the container. The lid is held in place by a paper label, which, once you have slit the label, flies up, allowing the contents to scatter in all directions. OK, so the next time you purchase such a package, you plan to employ your new found expertise to avoid the same mistake, but what you don’t realize is that once the label has been slit, the lid will not stay closed unless you want to invest in a rubber band or some sticky tape.
Probably the most beguiling packaging material of all is the thin-film, clear plastic sheet that gift wrapping paper and some greeting cards are covered with. I say beguiling because it is so thin that a paper knife or even a sharp finger nail is all you need to remove it, and you are fooled into thinking that dealing with it will be a cake walk. However, it has two, secret characteristics designed to drive you crazy.
The first is that it tears easily but not in straight lines, so when you try to extract the contents of the package, you end up with a pile of slivers. The second endearing feature is that it can carry an unbelievably strong electrostatic charge, allowing it to jump to and cling to any surface within a few inches, including your fingers and the table you’re working on. Once it gloms onto a surface it is practically impossible to see, so weeks later, out of the corner of your eye, you’ll see a shiny patch where there should not be one.
In all of this carping, I hope I’ll get credit for not having written a word about the child-roof packages that only a child can access. All I’ll say is that at my time of life and state of rheumatic degeneration, I just wish my grandchildren lived a bit closer.
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