Sunday, August 21, 2011
Snipping Those (Almost) Empty Toothpaste Tubes
A few weeks ago, I was watching some Oprah reruns on the tube, relaxing with a cup of joe and some oatmeal cookies. Oprah let it drop that she routinely cuts open her old tubes of toothpaste instead of trashing them, just so she can get every last drop out of each one. So I thought--Wow! That sounds like something I would do. I can't stand waste. When I throw out perfectly good food that was left on the supper plates, I envision some child going to bed without nourishing food, and there I go, throwing scraps down the drain that could maybe save a starving person. I feel guilty. Really guilty. There's a lot of suffering going on in America these days. Fewer jobs, higher costs, uncertainty. It makes me think that we could do better than we are doing as a nation, and so more and more, I've been looking at things that aggravate me because there's so much waste involved. Lately, I've noticed that the packaging designs of some products actually encourage waste. For example, the liquid laundry detergent that I buy has a huge pour spout fitted tightly into the container's neck. The force of gravity will not cause the remaining detergent to move through that spout. So after the detergent seems to be all used up, I throw away that big plastic jug. I got curious one day, and just as I was throwing away an empty, I noticed a pair of flat-nose pliers on the shelf right next to the clothespins. I took the pliers in hand, clamped them firmly on the pour spout of that big jug, and yanked it real good one time. Off it popped, and detergent sloshed all over me. Now wait a minute. I was about to throw away that jug, and at least a cup of useful detergent with it. From then on, I always used pliers to remove the pour spouts, and I would always be able to wash a load or two more with what detergent I had been throwing away. I guess that next step engaged my devious mind, so I started to notice all the packaging problems in other products. One make-up product I use has a pump. Efficient, you might say. But sure enough, when I pulled off the pump which was affixed to the jar as part of the design, at least 1/4 of the entire contents was still in the bottom. A tube of foot creme, very expensive, was next. When I finally emptied it, and was wondering how much more the next tube would cost, I cut the container across the middle with some scissors. Sure enough, there was lots of creme left--enough to delay another purchase for at least a month. Hand lotion, loose face powder, dish liquid, shampoo--all the same. I began to research, looking for packaging designs by large companies, thinking that I could contact a corporate website and complain. Hey, I'm a consumer and I have a voice. I discovered something amazing! Giant filling stations for products like laundry detergent, bottled water, shampoo, cleaning products, and so many others. The concept already exists, and is catching on in some parts of the country. That's phenomenal! All those plastic containers don't have to end up in landfills, at least not immediately. What if you could go to a laundry detergent dispenser in your favorite grocery chain store, bring your almost-new containers with you, and refill them numerous times, much like we do propane gas for our grills. Then, take them to recycling centers, so that new refillable containers are made. We could end the need for new packaging in a short period of time as this sustainable product becomes more and more popular and well-known. Pause. Hang on. Now wait a gall darn minute--What if all this unnecessary packaging, these design features that appear to make products more convenient or attractive, are actually a ploy to force consumers to buy more products more often. I'm saying that the design is sometimes flawed, by design. That it's intentional. That the big corporate bosses might think they are pulling the wool, so to speak, over the eyes of the consumer, all in the name of convenience and product improvement. And if that's the case, I'm just angry. So I'm still researching, still evaluating, and still snipping my toothpaste tubes. Who knows. Maybe I'm on to something big.
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