Steven Ivory: I bought it. Now, if Only I Could Open it.

*Annoyed that a supermarket didn’t carry the AAA batteries I needed for my digital body weight scale, I decided to go to my neighborhood hardware store.

I’m not a fix-it kind of guy, but browsing a hardware store—especially the expansive one I visited—could make you want to be one. Hardware stores are toy stores for people who fix and build things.

After finding my batteries, I asked myself what else I needed while I was there. I remembered I’d been meaning to replace my flashlight.

Everybody needs a reliable flashlight.  At home or in your vehicle, you never know when you might need light.

There was quite a selection. I chose one made by a company called Coast. The G70 is a lean, long gunmetal flashlight with three beam modes so powerful that when I tried it out that afternoon in the store, it lit up the whole aisle.

If you needed to, you could defend yourself with this thing; it wouldn’t feel good upside somebody’s head.  This is the kind of badass flashlight George Clinton and Parliament were referring to in their funk anthem “Flashlight.”

Once home, I was eager to take my new beacon out of its packaging.  Encased in hard, clear plastic and backed by the thickest cardboard I’d ever come across, the package offered no point of entry.

My immediate thought was, “Here we go with this again.”

It’s not my imagination. Increasingly, manufacturers are making it harder to open their products. Medicines, electric toothbrush replacements, toys, some tools, and other items are harder than ever to access after purchase.

The roots of this go back to a good reason. In 1967, Dr. Henri Breault, responding to the growing number of children ingesting medicine, invented the Palm-N’-Turn design, the first childproof cap. As a result, child poisoning from medicine reportedly dropped by 91%.

Subsequently, in 1970, the United States enacted a law mandating child-resistant packaging for prescription and over-the-counter drugs.

Fortified packaging later became even more prominent as tampering with medications and food on retail shelves became common.

To wit: The Chicago Tylenol Murders. In 1982, at least seven people in Chicago died after taking Tylenol capsules secretly laced with cyanide. Others later died in copycat crimes. Remarkably, no suspect was ever charged or convicted.

Pretty soon, a rise in the theft of products such as deodorant, vitamins, detergents, cigarettes, and alcohol prompted retailers to lock those items and others, particularly during the pandemic, in cabinets.

I understand all the above. I also understand making the product packaging hard to open, since crooks open free-standing products in stores.

But once you buy a product and take it home, there should be a way to open the packaging without prayer.

Trying to free the flashlight reminded me of a day not long ago when I was headed into a CVS and an elderly woman, on her way out of the store, stopped me. “Young man, would you please do me a favor?”

She reached into the plastic bag she carried and handed me a large bottle of lime-flavored Gatorade.  “Would you open this for me?  I have such a hard time opening these bottles when I get home.”

 No problem, lady.  You had me at “YOUNG.”  Let a man come in and do the popcorn.

I put a firm grip on the orange bottle top and twisted. Nothing happened.

“My son-in-law usually does this for me,” the woman said, “but this morning my daughter told me he’s in Memphis ‘til this weekend.”

“Well, it’s no problem, ma’am; we got this.”

I got a firmer grip and twisted. My hand moved, but the orange top didn’t budge.

“Hee-hee. It’s tough, isn’t it?” the lady mused, noticing the lack of progress. “I don’t know why they put these tops on so tight.”

Me, neither.  And I don’t know how I ended up with the task of opening the tightest one off the assembly line.

“I could never do this,” she said. “Thank you so much for doing it for me.”

But I hadn’t done it. I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about myself until this woman handed me the Gatorade bottle from hell. I took my hand off the bottle cap, wiggled my hand a bit, and tried again, to no avail.

“Huh,” the woman grunted.

 I’m no weakling, but Duane “The Rock” Johnson would have a problem opening this.

Soon, the woman was gazing out over the parking lot, seemingly searching for someone who could get this top off. I looked around and spotted a man in the distance, climbing out of his car. He was young–well, younger. There are several stores in this strip mall, but he was headed our way, toward the CVS.

As I continued to make no progress with the bottle, the woman fell silent. She was focused on the man making his way toward us.

 Lady, don’t do this to me. 

Because she was busy watching the guy, she didn’t see my contorted face or my body tense as I gave one final effort.

And the bottle opened!  After all that exertion, I deserved the swig I took from that bottle. I’m kidding, I didn’t do that.  But I sure felt like it.  The woman left, overjoyed with her Gatorade, and I left with an irritated palm and my dignity.

I did get the flashlight package open. It took a butcher’s knife, a pair of pliers, and a stick of dynamite, but I did it. I haven’t needed a flashlight, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, I’ll reach for it by my bed and shine it around the bedroom. It’s fun. The Coast G70 is a beast.

Steven Ivory, veteran journalist, essayist, and author, writes and discusses popular culture across various platforms, including the Internet, TV, radio, documentaries, magazines, and newspapers. The Last Man on AOL is at STEVRIVORY@AOL.COM

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