The Christmas tree lights are still glowing. The house is finally silent. It was a very good day. But before I go to sleep … I have one question.
Who designs toy packaging?
Second question: What is he so mad about?
The talent of this individual is being wasted.
Here is a picture of one of the toys the eldest unwrapped on Christmas morning:
There was the exterior plastic shell. A protective shell inside of the plastic shell. A plastic shell protecting the back of the package from the plastic on the front of the package. AND random strips of tape that held all of these protective shells together. None of those monstrosities are pictured.
Inside of the aforementioned series of shells, Lightning McQueen is bound to two platforms. Incarcerated by not one, but two twist ties. Enslaved in the solitude of the toy aisle, this car is guaranteed to be in the package once you get it open – a process that may take most of the rest of your natural adult life.
Read the label
The fine print on the box warns: By the time you completely open this package one of several things could occur – your child will be old enough to drive a real car, your child will no longer be interested in our toy, or you may find the product broken (in which case it is not our fault). (It doesn’t actually say this on the box. But it should.)
I have a few theories. The first theory is that the individual who designed this package has seen Toy Story a few too many times and believes toys are indeed alive – and the plastic shells protect the toys from concussions. The next theory is that the individual participated in, and failed, the infamous egg drop experiment at some point during his or her academic career. And the last theory is a bit of a stretch, but perhaps this design is actually a part of a large overreaching conspiracy to help fund the wealthy oil industry. What? You were expecting aliens or something?
As I noted before, the talent of this individual is being wasted. This person should be handling the designs of our high security prisons and detention centers. Better yet, instead of the age-old interrogation techniques, all a law enforcement officer needs to do is roll out a few packs of these toys and even the most hardened criminal would crack. I could totally see it now:
“Mr. Doe, where were you the night of the first?”
“I was alone, enjoying a fine Chianti and some fava beans.”
“Mr. Doe, we are going to step out of the room for a few minutes. Before you can be released we need you to open these three packages. They are toys for children. Just place the plastic in the waste reciprocal in the corner.”
Minutes later …
“I did it. I confess. I confess to everything. Every wrong mankind ever committed. (Channeling Mommy Dearest) No. MORE. PLASTIC. SHELLS!”
I’m just saying. There might be a future use in all those toys that get marked down to clearance and then still don’t get sold. Forget sending them to the land of misfit toys. Send them to the state pen.
A version of “Toy Packaging” first appeared on Tales from the Poop Deck.
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