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Other Voices
About the time I was ready to give up and buy a different brand, I finally found what I was looking for. The reason I couldn't find my regular brand was because the manufacturer has completely changed the look of the bag. The reason for the change, apparently, was emblazoned across the front of the bag: "Now better tasting than ever." Now, I don't know how they know the dog food is better tasting - I certainly didn't try it - but it doesn't surprise me that they say it is better. Seems like nearly every product in the store claims to be "new and improved." Makes me wonder if the stuff we've been using is "old and lousy." It makes sense, of course, that companies would seek to make their products better. They want to get a larger share of the market for whatever it is they are making, and if tweaking the product or its packaging will help them, then so be it. But the problem with "new and improved" products is that they usually aren't. I brought home the better tasting dog food for Glory. She was not impressed. The first time I filled her bowl, she took a sniff. Then she looked at me with a look that said, "What are you trying to pull, fella?" She finally ate it, realizing that I wasn't giving her anything else and that eating the new food was better than going hungry. But it was clear she doesn't really like it. It's not the first time "new and improved" has disappointed. Remember New Coke? Can you imagine the conversation between the person who dreamed up New Coke and his boss? "Listen, Fred, let's take the best-selling soft drink in all the world, the product with the most loyal customer base, and change it in such a way that it tastes almost exactly like our biggest competitor, Pepsi." "Sam, you're a genius." I'm a Coke drinker. If I had wanted to drink Pepsi, I would buy Pepsi. But I don't. And neither, apparently, did millions of others, and within a few months, they jettisoned New Coke and went back to the old formula. Toothpaste is another area where "new and improved" hasn't always been so. When I was younger, I remember going to the drug store to get toothpaste. There was one kind of Colgate, one kind of Crest, one kind of Pepsodent, and something called Gleem, which didn't sound like something I wanted to put on my teeth. Today, there are probably a dozen types of Colgate alone. You can get toothpaste with baking soda and peroxide, tartar-control toothpaste or advanced whitening toothpaste. Here's an idea: How about making a toothpaste that does all of that and be done with it? I have a similar issue with laundry detergent. You can wash your clothes in detergent that smells like a mountain breeze or a spring rain or even apple mango. I suppose this is a little better than the old days, when a detergent called Fab was all the rage. The big thing about Fab, according to the announcer, was that it featured lemonfreshened Borax. Now I'm not really sure how Borax helps your clothes get clean, but I darn sure know I don't want my clothes to smell like lemons. In fact, I don't really want my clothes to smell like anything. Isn't that why I wash them in the first place? So they won't smell? There's really nothing I can do to change any of this. It's just the way it is. In fact, maybe I should just embrace the trend. Maybe next week, my column will be "new and improved." Maybe we'll put a fancy new graphic at the top of it. Maybe we'll put a new label on it: "Now with 20 percent more humor."
Just don't expect it to actually, really be any better.
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