Greeting, kindred spirits who employ an assortment of makeshift weaponry—butter knives, raw brawn, and mystifyingly placed swear words—to declare war on an adversary so mundane, it’s almost sardonic. Yes, I’m talking about the Pandora’s box you never wished to unlock: product packaging.
You know exactly the ones I’m referring to: those seemingly harmless items packaged like they’re guarding the vault at Fort Knox. It’s an open secret that companies go to impressive lengths to protect their products from harm. What they seem to casually overlook, however, is that the person most likely to be harmed by their product is the consumer who just used their last ounce of patience trying to open the package!
Case in point, my most recent battle to the death was with—cue the ironic drumroll—a $6 pair of scissors. Yes, you read that right. A pair of scissors imprisoned in a blister pack that clearly needs a pair of—wait for it—scissors to liberate. Let that painful dose of reality sink in!
Dear manufacturers, a question if I may? Is it some kind of twisted game? A cruel prank show hidden between the lines of your packaging? Or do you simply sit back with popcorn as you watch surveillance footage of distraught customers wrestling with your impenetrable packaging like it’s a Rubik’s cube designed by Satan himself?
What makes this whole thing even more infuriating is that the scissors were packaged in a blister pack. Not just any blister pack, but that impenetrable type that requires an advanced physics degree, a power tool, and the luck of seven leprechauns to break through. Are they special scissors, you may ask? No! They’re just ordinary, run-of-the-mill, plain-Jane steel scissors. No encrusted diamonds, no secret map to a treasure, nada!
Picture this if you will: if the products inside these packages needed as much protection as their exterior implies, surely, they must offer some mind-blowingly unique abilities, right? Wrong! Forget the disappointment of opening your Fort-Knox equivalent package and not finding the Hope Diamond inside. Instead, you’re greeted with the very utilitarian, very ordinary, very—I dare say—un-fancy fruit of your struggles.
So here’s a heartfelt plea, a rally cry, from all of us frustrated consumers to the overlords creating these packages: considering the advancement in technology in pretty much every field, could we maybe, just maybe, find a way to prioritize accessibility as much as we do preservation?
After all, we shouldn’t need a chainsaw and nerves of steel to get to the scissors. If anything, the absurdities lying within these packaging escapades remind us to find radiance in everyday struggles. It keeps our inherent human desire for intense battles with inanimate objects alive!
Stay strong, fellow warriors. And remember: You may not have chosen the war, but you can darn well choose your creative battle cries. Godspeed with your $6 scissors!
