Marketing Gone Amok!

All I've heard lately are people talking about calories, fat grams, trans fat, saturated fat, unsaturated fat, cholesterol, sodium, and carbohydrates. Healthy this and healthy that, portion control this and portion control that.  It's gotten to the point where when someone starts talking healthy eating, I hear blah, blah, blah. 

 

But, with all of this new more intense focus on food, I've also noticed a decided shift in the way food companies are advertising their products, and enough so that it has captured my attention and I'm actually listening again.  Advertisers no longer show just a steaming mound of mashed potatoes with a delectably lush pat of butter melting down the sides.  No sir they don't. 

Now the companies have taken their advertising to a whole new level to meet the consumer's evolving health awareness.  Instead of just hooking you with that ever so appealing mound of steaming hot mashed potatoes, they now sink their hooks in deep with the new added kicker "and 1 serving is only 80 calories!". 

Wow!  I love mashed potatoes and to be able to eat them and only consume 80 calories would leave room in my daily caloric count for dessert!  And jump for joy! The very next commercial after the potatoes was for spray whipped topping.

The commercial displayed a big bowl full of beautifully juicy red strawberries with a big mound of whipped topping.  The announcer said "....don't feel guilty..... because with just 15 calories it's the perfect compliment to your workout."

Oh thank you sweet Lord!  I won't be killing all the effects of my workout and I can enjoy a delightful reward.  And look at that mound of scrumptious savoriness they say I can have for only 15 calories!!!  Woo Hoo!

I ran out and bought the whipped topping and the strawberries.  I sprayed that whipped topping just like I'd seen on tv and as I was lowering the can to clean off the nozzle, I noticed the nutrition label and was instantly dismayed.  The commercial showed this big mound of lushness and the announcer said it only had 15 calories, but the can said the serving size for those 15 calories was 2 measly, miserly tablespoons.  2 flipping tablespoons?!!  I don't think it is even humanly possible to spray out only 2 tablespoons. 

So, in an effort to protect all of mankind from such false advertising, I offered myself up as a guinea pig to see just how much I was using on average.  Remember, I did this with the pure motive to help all of you who are watching your diet and not because I wanted to eat an entire can of whipped topping...... although it was decidedly delicious!

The photo at the top of this post is 2 tablespoons (and heaping tablespoons at that) of the spray whipped topping.  The photo below that is what I guessed to be the equivalent of what they sprayed in the commercial (although due to inability to get an actual scale and the camera distortion, the scale may be grossly off from my point of view and they may have sprayed a much smaller amount). 

I measured that mound out and it was 13 tablespoons which equates to 97.5 calories..... that's a whole lot more than 15.

Going back to those mashed potatoes, those were only 80 calories per serving, right?  Not so fast.  I checked the serving size (1/3 cup) and wouldn't you know those 80 calories were only for the potato flakes.  That's right, you can have the potato flakes for 80 calories but if you'd like them actually mixed with milk, butter, salt, and water (they taste closer to real potatoes that way) as the package directions state, then those calories jump up to 150.

Between just these 2 food items, my daily calorie intake was just blown by 152 calories.  That didn't seem that bad, I thought.  After all, it wasn't like I'd blown it by 1,000 calories.

Then I decided to look up what it would take for me to burn those extra calories off.  55 minutes of having my arm dislocated from it's socket.......er...... I mean walking the dog.... or I could go play bumper carts with the old farts at Walmart for an hour and 15 minutes, or I could go swim laps freestyle at a moderate pace for 20 minutes straight. 

All of those options really make those marketing wizards look like demons in my eyes.  I don't want to have to exercise extra just for some whipped cream and boxed mashed potatoes.  Heck, I don't really want to exercise at all.

Yes, it's irritating that marketing guru's have run amok using these methods to sell products, but I guess that's the nature of the beast of free enterprise.  Consumer vs. Marketing.  So, once again that age old phrase proves itself correct "if it looks too good to be true, it probably is".

So there you have it, my first expose'.  I feel so John Stossel-y.

by: Christie Bielss

Telemarketer Tango

I have been trying to instill in my children that there is no job which is too menial for them to accept.......... with one exception: telemarketing.  I know telemarketing is a legitimate job which requires a lot of skill in order to meet sales quotas, but those people have a gift for being more annoying than a horsefly at a picnic.

I have employed many tactics trying to get them to quit calling our telephone number.  I have hung up on them, told them ever so politely I'm not interested, asked them to remove my telephone number from their list, demanded they quit calling my telephone number, and griped at them for calling me 30 times a day.

I do admit to veering a little off-course from Miss Manner's guide to mannerly evasion techniques with one particular telemarketer.  This telemarketer made the mistake of calling this redhead every 30 minutes for days on end.  This type of technique will never generate a sale from me, but it will spur me to step outside the bounds of etiquette so that I can entertain myself at that person's expense. 

Soap box moment:  I really miss corded telephones.  Besides the benefits of never having to dial your own home phone number because you can't remember where you left your cordless phone, you also cannot get the same effect that slamming down a corded phone gives you when all you can do is press the cordless phone's "off" button.  Instead of hearing the WHAM of a corded phone, all the telemarketer hears is the softest of clicks.  Without that level of satisfaction, I then resort to hitting the off button 5 times with increasing degrees of force as I yell at the phone "And.don't.call.me.AGAIN.!".    Off my soap box.

So, after my politely worded declinations did nothing to stop this most persistent telemarketer, I decided it was time to get "creative".  Instead of giving my usual "no, thank you" response, I added a bit of a s-s-s-s-s-st-st-stutt-ut-ut-er. When I started stuttering, it threw them off-course and made them st-st-stumble through their spiel.  This strategy, while effective in shutting them up, did not stop them from calling repeatedly.  It was time to go to DEFCON 2.

As soon as the telemarketer's number popped up on Caller ID, I was ready and raring to go.  As soon as I said "Hello?" they began with their typical "May I speak with Mrs. Bee-uh-Bile-ummm-Beelesssss?".  Immediately I started acting as though I was hard of hearing.  After several times of me yelling "I'm sorry hon, but I can't hear you.  You'll have to speak up.", you could hear the frustration growing in the telemarketers voice (from about a block away) as they yelled their spiel even louder. 

When I had succeeded in getting the telemarketer completely exasperated and they had yelled their spiel for the umpteenth time at the top of their lungs, I said with all the indignation I could muster in my redheaded body "Well!  You don't need to yell! I'm not deaf, you know!".  They hung up and I rejoiced as the rest of my day was telemarketer free.  I celebrated too soon though.  About 2 days later they started calling again.

I was prepared though.  If you have to go to DEFCON 2, then you pretty much prepare to go all the way to DEFCON 1, and oh boy! was I prepared.  I had even rehearsed it with my family.  The conversation went like this:

Me: Hello?

Tele-stalker (TS): Hi, may I speak with Ms. B-B-Brills, uh, Ms. Bless, uh....Blise....ummmm...... Ms. Christie?

Me: Speaking.

TS: Well Ms. Christie, I see that you ha...

Me: Do you hear that?

TS: have.....ummm....... I'm sorry Ms. Christie, what?

Me: Can you hear that?

TS: (audible pause as they listened) Hear what?

Me: You can't hear that?

TS: Ummm......no....... hear what ma'am?

Me: People talking.

TS: Oh, well, maybe you're hearing some of my co-workers in the background.

Me: Ok....... ummm......... why are they telling someone to get naked?

TS:  WHAT?!!

Me:  The voices I'm hearing keep saying to get naked.

TS: Ma'am?!!! Ummm........ hold on a moment ma'am. (I could hear her whisper to a co-worker: "Did you say something to someone about getting naked?"......... pause....... "This person is saying they hear voices telling them to get naked!".)

Me: There! I heard it again! You'd better look behind you because somebody is standing there naked. You could video it and put it on youtube.

TS: (I could hear the chair squeak as they flipped around in their chair) Nope. (sigh) Nobody here is naked, ma'am. Is there someone else in the house with you? Maybe they said it.

Me: Nope. Nobody here but me and the dog and the dog can't speak............well, she doesn't usually speak. Just every now and again she talks to me.

TS: Ummm........ your dog talks to you?

Me:  Yeppers she sure does! .......ummm.... Why? ........ Doesn't your dog talk to you?

TS: You mean your dog barks and whines, right?

Me: No, she speaks perfect English - just like I'm speaking to you.  Well, not all the time. She really only does it when no one else is around.  I guess she's shy. And she can speak Italian, Scottish, and British, which is just like our English but with a funny sounding accent.  I guess it's because she's a mixed breed.  Pure breeds probably only speak one language. 

TS: Ummm...... you mean she understands all that language, right? (whispers to co-worker) "Oh sh**! This lady's cray-cray! She's hearing voices saying to get naked and her dog talks to her......yeah! like speaking words and sh**....."

Me: No, she talks like you and I are talking.  (sounding anxious) Ma'am? There's that voice again.  Are you sure that's not your co-worker telling someone to get naked? Is this some kind of telephone porn solicitation? Is this 1-800-Hot-Jobs or something like that?  Has the economy gotten so bad that you are looking for "Johns" over the telephone? Oh.My.Gosh! You're a telephone hooker aren't you?! Does your mother know what you do for a living?!

TS: ...........click............(dial tone)

And they've never called back.  And that, my friends, is how you get rid of tele-stalkers.  1 tele-stalker down.......... billions more to go..........

by: Christie Bielss

Perfume Encounters

I like going to the big department stores and walking around looking at the latest styles and accessories.  I usually prefer to go on a weekday morning because the sales staff isn't overrun with lots of customers and they're happy to wait on you, although it can sometimes be a bit overwhelming with all of the salespeople asking "can I help you".

Recently I had to depart from my normal morning shopping time and make a trip in the afternoon.  It had obviously been a very slow sales day at the store as I was again overwhelmed with all of the salespeople.  As I made my way to the makeup counter to pick up some lipstick, out of the blue I got hit with a walk-by-spraying.  I'm sure you've seen the lovely young ladies who ask if you'd like to try their  perfume and, before you can respond, you get sprayed.  That's exactly what happened to my little unsuspecting self on that day. 

As I was coughing and sneezing from the trigger-happy perfume bomber, she asked what I thought of the fragrance designed by What's-her-name, the infamous model/actress.  I told her I thought it was a most interesting combination.  With her interest peaked, I went on to explain that it was a richly blended concoction of eau-de-skunk and kid's gym clothes which had not been washed in nearly a year, with a little after-taste of what's been lurking at the back of your refrigerator that's grown into an alien life form.  The perfume sniper was quite deflated.

The whole experience reminded me of when my neighbor's Chihuahua got sprayed by a skunk.  The poor unsuspecting dog was doing his business in the backyard and was in a most compromising position when he got bushwhacked by Pepe Le Pew.  Lucky for the dog, our neighbors called and we had tomato juice and V8 juice and were able to neutralize the horrific stench.  I wasn't so lucky and I could've really used a V8 at that moment.

The sneezing fits I was experiencing from the perfume terrorist wouldn't stop, and nearly out of tissues, I headed out to my car and tried using hand sanitizing wipes to wipe down the saturated areas of skin and clothing.  Not even alcohol based wipes could get rid of the smell.  And, with the scent of the wipes mingling with the perfume, I now smelled like a New York taxi cab.  I gave up and started driving home.  I had barely pulled out of the parking lot when a green cloud engulfed the interior of my car.  It became so thick I was forced to roll down the car windows to be able to breathe, which had unintended positive results.  The whole way home, through horrible road construction and rush hour traffic, I didn't have a single car tailgate me....... matter of fact, they all seemed to give me a very wide berth that day. 


by: Christie Bielss