clamshell

I just opened and set up my paper shredder. There’s nothing really remarkable about that, except that the shredder has been sitting, packaged, in my office for about four years. This is how unpleasant opening clamshell is. I moved the thing around my office for four years, tossing thousands of credit card offers whole into the recycling, rather than attack the thick impenetrable plastic it came in. I know I’m not alone in hating that clamshell packaging. Ellen Degeneres has a joke about it: listing what’s wrapped in it but then pointing out that lightbulbs…“thin, thin plastic.” It’s true, of course. The packaging is a cultural statement on our habits. It’s hardly ever to protect the product, but almost always to prevent pilferage. Opening the stuff is a dangerous exercise. Scissors are ineffective, box cutters dangerous, I’ve heard can openers are safe, but I’ve never figured out how to use one with the shell. Rare is the packaging that permits the buyer to neatly pull the sides apart. I usually wind up bloody and of course the cuts aren’t clean – the ragged edges gouge the flesh. Fingers are at the biggest risk and it seems incredible that deaths have not resulted from slashed arteries. And then of course there’s the environmental impact. I’d like to make a vow not to buy items thusly packaged. Let’s see how long I can go before I run into something I need that can’t be found any other way.