My life sucks and I want a refund
I’ve just spent a week in planes, trains and automobiles, and waiting for same, which means I’ve had a lot of time to think. And one of the things I’ve been thinking about is how many refunds I might collect.
What got me going on this unlikely money-making track was the recent announcement that Disney plans to reimburse parents who bought into the idea that playing Baby Einstein videotapes would somehow lead their infants to invent the laws of physics in their cribs:
Parent alert: the Walt Disney Company is now offering refunds for all those “Baby Einstein” videos that did not make children into geniuses.
They may have been a great electronic baby sitter, but the unusual refunds appear to be a tacit admission that they did not increase infant intellect.
“We see it as an acknowledgment by the leading baby video company that baby videos are not educational, and we hope other baby media companies will follow suit by offering refunds,” said Susan Linn, director of Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, which has been pushing the issue for years.
Baby Einstein, founded in 1997, was one of the earliest players in what became a huge electronic media market for babies and toddlers. Acquired by Disney in 2001, the company expanded to a full line of books, toys, flashcards and apparel, along with DVDs including “Baby Mozart,” “Baby Shakespeare” and “Baby Galileo.”
The videos — simple productions featuring music, puppets, bright colors, and not many words — became a staple of baby life: According to a 2003 study, a third of all American babies from 6 months to 2 years old had at least one “Baby Einstein” video.
Unfortunately, I have no Baby Shakespeare or Baby Galileo or Baby Bill Gates tapes gathering dust in the corner. But I do have a host of purchase regrets, and I’m figuring if I get myself a good advocate, I too can clean up. Here, a partial list:
1) Wonder Bread. Many of us grew up with the promise, “Wonder Bread builds strong bodies 12 ways.” I’m not sure that happened. Maybe two ways, or three or four, but 12 is stretching it. Since I consumed around 300 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches a year, and the odd slice of toast, I figure I’m owed a few bucks. (Okay, so they actually owe my parents, but they’re not around to collect. I’ll take it as inheritance.)
2) Ivory Soap. Wash your face with it, and you’ll look as young as your daughter, we were told. Easy enough. Except I’m on the other side of that Generations Campaign now, and I do not look like my daughter. Not even close. Unless you’re blind. Right now! Money back!
3) Wind Song Perfume. I should have been suspicious about any kind of scent created by a Prince Matchabelli. What kind of prince goes around making perfume, anyway? But he did, and he promised that if you dabbed it on, the man of your dreams was hooked. “I can’t seem to forget you, your Wind Song stays on my mind.” Well, you know, a lot of guys forgot me, specifically one named Jim. Refund! No–Double Refund! I was an impressionable teen!
4) Women Dress for Success. Back in the ’80s, women were told to wear a “uniform” in order to climb the corporate ladder. Dress for Success author John Molloy designed it and, frankly, Mao did a better job. Molloy’s prescription featured shoulder pads and bow-tied blouses. The overall effect was linebacker nun. Not only did I not get promoted, I probably lost a good many dates, and I couldn’t even claim a tax deduction for spending hundreds of my hard-earned dollars on stupid little earrings and dreary grey skirts I would never have considered purchasing otherwise. In fact, I deserve more than money here. I would like a full ap0logy.
5) The Secret. This 2006 book by Rhonda Byrne promised that if you really concentrated, and channeled those cosmic forces, you could get everything you wanted, from a million dollars to a parking space. Ha! I don’t know who to go after on this one–I’ll leave that to my lawyer–but let’s just say I wouldn’t have even heard of this book if I didn’t watch Oprah.
Come to think of it, Oprah owes me a refund on an awful lot of things. Add ‘em all together, and I might have enough for a car.
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I’m still waiting for Calgon to “take me away.” I mean, yes, I had a nice bath. But not the transcendent kind promised by the commercial.
Refund!
6. I once had a Coke and it did not make me smile.
7. The pause did not refresh.
8. I am somebody who doesn’t like Saralee.
#8 alone should net you a couple mill!
In response to another comment. See in context »No woman I’ve ever know has thought Irish Spring to be either manly nor likable — although hung from a stake in the garden it does deter deer.
Growing up, I was warned that smoking would stunt my growth, so I didn’t smoke. Well, I am now a fully grown 5′6″ (on a good day) adult. Where is all the non-smoker height I was promised? I want $3 million in Camel Cash as retribution.
Good one, Dan! We know they have a lot of cash–and they won’t want to go to court!! Settle for 2.8.
In response to another comment. See in context »God owes me a bunch of money. Just the beer belly I’ve been carting around for the last decade, while not drinking beer, is worth millions. But I might settle for a few beers.
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