Monty (who just joined Twitter) linked to a Reason article on the glories of choice we have available to us in the western world. Monty’s comment:
The glories of capitalism, as expressed in the salty-snacks aisle of the supermarket. When you have a surfeit of a good or service, the value-add stops being the utility-value of the good and instead becomes esthetics or status. That’s why rich people drive Rolls Royces and Ferraris instead of Toyotas and Fords. As cars, they all do pretty much the same thing and in pretty much the same way; but the value-add of a Ferrari lies in aspects not directly related to the utility value of the vehicle. You can say the same about nearly any other commodity class, from clothes to electronics…to snack foods.
And the A Barton Hinkle article he links to:
But you don’t have to research the past 50 years of product flops to make the case. Just check a vending machine. There you will find every possible combination and interpolation of snack food. In the potato chip category alone — we don’t have time to look at crackers, cheese puffs, corn chips, or cookies — one finds not just barbecue- or cheddar-flavored chips, but chili cheese, cool ranch, ragin’ ranch, habanero, cheddar jalapeno, hot sauce, honey cheese, creamy chipotle, Mediterranean herb, and ketchup-flavored chips.
It’s obvious what’s going on here. Like every other industry, America’s snack-food makers live in deathly fear that the other guys are going to come up with the next “disruptive innovation” first, so everyone is trying to innovate as fast as they can. The poor sots in middle management have been told next year’s raise depends on producing X amount of revenue from new products. But there are only so many truly new products you can think up. Answer? Combine existing products the way you choose from a Chinese take-out menu: one from Column A, one from Column B. …
This seems to be the method at Hammacher Schlemmer — the fine folks who bring you must-have products like the bath mat/alarm clock and the remote-control pillow. It seems to work for them. So why not try it with snack food? Pickle-flavored potato chips, that’s why. Who needs all that ridiculous junk? Your basic potato-flavored potato chip was good enough for our ancestors and by gad sir, it should be good enough for us.
Or at least this is my attitude when standing before a vending machine. Whisk me into an office-supply store, however, and the tune suddenly changes. I am among those who have a weak spot — call it a fetish, call it an obsession — for school supplies. Pens, especially.
