Monday, June 1, 2020, 9:14 am
Limited time only
Those three words have haunted me my whole life. They have created the monster I’ve become. The obsessive collector.
The advertiser’s dream. The consumer’s nightmare.
Granted, some things make sense to provide for a limited time only... or at least DID before the widespread availability of refrigeration and our global distribution network—which makes it possible for me to get quality oranges or strawberries year-round.
However, sometimes I believe the phrase is used for an entity to remain relevant. After all, what reason exists to dangle the carrot of the McRib in front of its fans for a few scant days each year? Or the Shamrock Shake?
Okay, I’ll stop picking on Ron now.
Over the past few years, I have acquired the taste for craft beers. I love a good winter ale... it warms the heart and the soul, and it’s only available for two—maybe three—months in the fall.
So, when I see it on the shelf I stock up. Hard. No wonder my beer fridge is full. And the cool “beer storage” section of my cellar.
When Pepsi had the brilliant idea of “throwback” sodas, it was initially billed as “limited time only.” Thankfully, Pepsi ALMOST saw the error of their ways and both Pepsi and Mountain Dew throwback have been available for years—practically non-stop.
So, I don’t feel as compelled to horde it... even though there really are no guarantees PepsiCo will continue to produce these sodas. Redesigning the can’s look-n-feel does reinforce that promise every now and then.
Then there’s that word ALMOST. Pepsi, like many other giants, does not care about its consumers... to take a quasi-successful product like 1893 and highly restrict its availability.
Some online sources indicate it’s discontinued, yet the Amazon lists it as available.
Of course, the Amazon will not deliver it to my address... or any others within my range. When contacted, their help desk doesn’t even know why. Oh, I can get it... but it takes an extraordinary amount of finesse.
Hence, fueling my need to stockpile.
And hindering my ability to purge and become more portable. Can I really hop aboard a schooner with three cases of 1893 in tow?
Plus, I have no idea when that well on the Amazon will dry up. Thanks, Pepsi.
In spite of all of these obsessions, I am finally learning to accept that everything eventually goes “out of print.” Even if there’s no tangible reason for it to do so. Disney “vault,” anyone?
Even we expire. One day, I’ll be gone... hopefully having fully enjoyed my rich life. A generation, or two (on the outside), later, no one will even know I existed.
C’est la vie. For now, I’ll enjoy my cola.