Ann Ipock
            Humorist, author, speaker

Georgetown Times Column

Impossible Packages: Who Can OpenThem?

By Ann Ipock January 14, 2004

I was talking to my mom on the phone recently when I asked her if she enjoyed the new Mannheim Steamroller CD that I’d given her for Christmas. She answered, “Well, ah, no, not yet.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She told me that after battling the clear cover, in which the flimsy cellophane stuck like glue to her fingers and hands, another problem arose. She absolutely could not remove the narrow sticky white band of sealing tape. I knew exactly what she meant.
I thought back to the last time I tried to open a new CD. I was driving my car and fiddling with the bag, the receipt, and the CD (my bad).
Lucky for me, I keep a pair of scissors in the glove compartment. Unlucky for my car, I almost poked a hole in the upholstery. So you can add that to your list of what not to do while driving:
Talking on a cell phone, applying makeup or panty hose (just kidding), and opening those #($%&@ CD packages.
One more cellophane and cardboard death sentence is the VCR tape packaging. Yes, we Ipocks still have a VCR — but for the sake of fairness and so we don’t sound like we’re living in a time warp, Russell did buy a DVD player before Christmas. And since my TV recordings are rarely planned — it’s not like I’m sitting around making daily flow charts — when I do decide to record, the actual show has likely begun.
It goes like this: “Oh my gosh! ‘Life With Bonnie’ (my current favorite show) is on,” whereupon Russell rolls his eyes and says, “So? Go watch it!” “No, “ I tell him, “I’m busy now. I want to watch it later.”
After Russell sees that I mean business, and, being the kind-hearted guy that he is, he also runs around trying to aid and abet me, joining in the search for a new (unused) tape. “Aha! I’ve got it,” he screams.
At this point, the show has progressed to where David is inside Bonnie’s kitchen, and he’s donning plastic gloves, preparing to throw out the garbage.
See, I’ve already missed the first seven minutes. I sigh. Suddenly, Russell screams in agony. I stare at him.
“What?” I ask. “I can’t get the package open,” he cries out. With his chewed-down-to-the-nub fingernails and large hands, he appears to be all thumbs. Soon, his hands are flying faster than a kitten with a ball of yarn. Then the menacing black box flies up in the air and crashes to the floor — but you guessed it — still intact.
And recently, boy, did I get a shock when I came home from the grocery store and noticed my dishwasher detergent bottle has now copied those annoying childproof medicine caps.
More frustration ensues when I read the directions: “Squeeze cap sides while unscrewing.” Fuhgedaboutit! I can squeeze or I can unscrew, but I can’t do both at the same time. Then I see that the cap also reads: “Close tight.”
Oh, don’t worry; I think the cap will remain closed tight because I can’t get it open in the first place! Whether it’s from arthritis, bursitis or tendonitis, I just can’t get the cap off.
On a second try, with a sore hand and hurt feelings, I somehow manage to remove the cap, but in doing so, I shake the bottle, which sends the lemony glutinous mixture flying straight out in one fat spurt, which promptly lands on my kitchen floor.
Well, all this package opening insanity is nothing compared to the recent purchase I had with my newest Sony Walkman.
It seems a new packaging device sucks all the air out between the cardboard and the steel-hard clear plastic. And there are no instructions telling us how we are supposed to attack and destroy this packaging “so tough, that not even a truck rolling over it will dent it.”
Not so much as a mention of “Open here, you fool, if you can.” As if you could. So you push, you prod, and you pray.
Nothing.
Then you stomp on it, scream at it, and spin it like a Frisbee. Still nothing.
It seems to me that all of this idiotic “you can’t get to me” protective coating has indeed finally gotten to me — but I don’t give up easily, and I do have a solution. It’s called plissors.
It’s a cross between a pair of pliers and a pair of scissors.
Strong enough to open any package by pulling apart the steel-like plastic from the super-duper thick cardboard, and yet sharp enough to cut through any clingy cellophane or sticky sealing tape.
But wait! There’s more! As an added bonus, these plissors would come with a bonus gift: a handy-dandy attachment, that pops off those childproof caps with a squeeze and a turn, all by itself.
Any schemers out there looking for a get-rich-quick and much needed invention? These ideas I’ve just outlined should help.
In the meantime, why doesn’t someone in our country develop a task force to study and implement a U.S. Standard on Packaging?
This would simplify opening things for us average, well educated, but non-engineering consumers?
In fact, I think I’ll mail this very column to one of those politicians who’ve been visiting Georgetown lately. They’re always looking for a new platform, and the idea might even win a few votes.
I think I’ll encourage him/her to start out by studying the very simple envelope I’ll send my column in: plain white paper with a light glue seal, no cardboard, no plastic, no squeeze and unscrew criteria.
In other words, it’s straightforward, plain and simple, and most of all … EASY TO OPEN!

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