Why take less?

So in a world of bigger and better, why would we opt for something less?  My screaming example of this came while I was at the grocery store the other day and looking at the cookies.  So many delicious choices, but something jumped out at me that just seemed stoopid.  It was the Oreos.  A fabulous little delectable that has stood the test of time and remains an American favorite.  As I looked at my many options, I realized the obvious.  There was the regular, old fashioned Oreo….  And then there was the Double Stuff Oreo.  Now can you tell me who in their right mind would settle for the standard filling when you can take on the double stuff?  Come on, man!  I’m a consistent consumer of the Oreo and ALWAYS go with the double stuff.  Why wouldn’t you?  When you successfully twist off the top cookie half and get to that splendid white center….  It’s like hitting the jackpot.  I can’t imagine going through that process and then only getting a single stuff reward! 

This happens all the time.  There are products on the grocery shelf that say “New and improved flavor!”.  Yeah baby – that is what I’m talking about!  Then, a quick peek to the left of the “New and improved flavor” and I see the original flavor.  Who would look at those options and say to themselves…  “nah, I don’t want more flavor, I think I will just stick with the usual bland option”.  And why do companies continue to produce things that aren’t as good as their new versions?  It’s like buying a car where the original comes with two tires and the new and improved model has four tires.  I can’t get my mind around it.

So, when you are at the store the next time, take a minute to chuckle at the options you have for the original version of something and the NEW, FANTASTIC and WONDERFUL option of the same product.  If you start to grab for the lesser product – slap yourself!!  Don’t take less, opt for the better option.  And always, I mean ALWAYS go with the Double Stuff Oreo or you will be mocked!

Chaperone or Chauffer?

So the time had come for my oldest son to attend his first school dance.  An exciting time, no doubt!!  My wife had received an email from the school asking for additional volunteers to chaperone the event and ensure these energetic young adults minded their p’s and q’s.  Prior to offering up our names, we asked our son if it would be okay.  My wife told him we were thinking of chaperoning the dance and asked if he would be cool with that.  His response, “yeah, that’s cool with me”.  So, we signed up to donate a few hours of our time to stand by and observe the maniacs in motion.

As the day of the dance arrived, my wife said “We need to get going since we need to check in at 5:45”.  My son – slammed with a look of confusion all over his face said “well who are we giving a ride?”.  Humm, interesting question as we weren’t giving anyone a ride.  So in follow up to his question, my wife told him that it was just us.  The confused look now turned to utter bewilderment.  He said, “I thought you guys were chaperoning and so don’t you have to give some of the kids rides to the dance?”.  It was then that we realized the young stud had obviously confused the definitions for “Chaperone” and “Chauffer”.  LOL!!  Hilarious.  So, we told him that we were going to the dance with him and would be watching over the bundle of Bieber-ites.  “oooohhhhhhhh….” was his response.

So we arrive at the school to find a room nicely decorated with balloons all over the ceiling and floors.   I told my wife it would be a matter of time before the bal *POP!*, balloons on the floor were all popped.  Sure enough, the energetic and nervous young men stomped on the balloons until there were none.  The DJ was good and seemed to play the jams the youth of America enjoy.  At first, there were just bundles of kids talking in circles.  Some were dressed as if it were prom.  Others picked a theme to run with, there was a hotdog costume, ties and hats, you name it.  It was apparent there were cool kids, the 8^th graders and then the rest. 

As things picked up and Jamba Juice was consumed… the nerves settled and there was some dancing going on.  No slow jams like we had at our dances, but all loud and active music.  My wife and I were comfortable and no longer feared the event, thinking this was a cake walk.  Then, blaring on the speakers started the LMFAO song that apparently sparked the feet and vocal chords of the youth.  They started all singing and jumping around.  Game on.  This was no longer a lame dance and had turned into a full on party!!  There was screeching, running, singing and dancing.  Wow, these little tykes don’t mess around.  Then, it was Bieber time and in unison, “baby, baby, baby…” was hollered at the highest of levels.  My wife and I made eye contact from our posts and there was a slight concern for our safety.  These little people were taking over!

The clock struck 8:00 and the lights came on and the DJ told them the fun had to end.  There was shrapnel all over the floor.  Neon glow sticks, jamba juice cups, blasted balloon parts and some spills of soda and sweat.  All in all, I have to say that these kids did it right.  I can’t remember a dance like that when I was a kid and only recall the mass separation of boys and girls and the awkward twinkles of the DJ lights.  This was a party.  The kids behaved and had a blast.  My son wasn’t embarrassed as I kept to myself and fought all urges to break out the running man.  It was a good night and kinda provided my wife and I with the proof that not all little people are scary.

Oh, and my son now understands the difference between Chaperone and Chauffer.