You disgust me.
I used to really love you, you know.
I mean, I didn’t love you enough to buy dozens of your click-y containers because listen, they’re kinda overpriced, but I did buy one when it was on sale and I had a coupon and a gift card. I like your containers enough that I would put them on a gift registry, maybe, or gladly haggle for them at a yard sale.
But $19 for one container? Do you know how much Gladware I can buy for that? Or, better yet, I could take that money and get a bunch of takeout from the Chinese restaurant, and they’ll just give me the containers for free, along with a bunch of soup and noodles.
But this is not really my point, because truly, I am glad that you make such a quality product as your Clicky’ware that some people, I’m assuming, are willing to buy at any price point. I’m assuming your demographic is ‘people of means’ who use your product to store their truffles and caviar, or to display the organic apples they’ll be taking out back later to feed their stableful of thoroughbreds.
My chief complaint, actually, is with the design of one of your products, the click-y travel mug.
I bought one on a whim once because I had a Target gift card I needed to use up (though at $13.95 each they actually do, nearly, fall into my price point of ‘things I would maybe purchase if I weren’t so cheap but still I’m going to have to think about it for a while’).
And I loved it.
So much so that I casually mentioned to my mom in an itemized Christmas wish list that I wouldn’t mind having another one—you know, maybe, if she kind of happened upon it at Bed Bath & Beyond or at Target, or at the very least, online.
I continued using them—and loving them—for years, even after I switched from drinking tea to drinking coffee, even after one of the mugs dumped hot coffee all over my pants as I was sitting down to put my shoes on and rush out the door to work.
Dear OXO, maybe you should make your click-y seal buttons a little bit more obvious to see when they’re in the open position. Because the ‘open’ and ‘closed’ button positions kinda look exactly the same, especially to someone who is not quite awake yet and in a rush to get out the door.
But I realize now the difference between the ‘open’ and ‘closed’ click-y button, and that difference is: a scalded leg and being ten minutes late to work.
But this, OXO, is not even my chief complaint.
OXO, I have a difficult question to ask you.
Have you, OXO, actually used these traveling coffee mugs? I mean, really owned and used them on a day-to-day basis?
Because there comes a time, OXO, when you need to wash them.
You admonish me to HAND WASH ONLY and that’s all well and good for a while, until the day you notice a slimy brown gunk lurking at the bottom of the ‘sippy-hole’ of your coffee mug. How, OXO, am I supposed to clean the inside of a ¼-inch wide hole? Or, for that matter, clean the narrow crevasse on the underside of the lid?
Now, I may be a woman and, as such, may not have the spatial-relationship skills that your fancy-manly-engineer-designers have, but I am pretty certain that my hands, while small and woman-like, cannot possibly ever fit into these narrow spaces to clean them with soap.
Is there a magic cleaning brush that was supposed to come with my mugs?
Did it, perhaps, come with an elf and a tiny sponge that can scrub those crevasses? Did I mistakenly kill my elf with hot coffee, or drive him away by farting (accidentally)?
I am usually no stickler for cleanliness, but OXO, this collection of gunk on my coffee lids is precisely where my coffee travels when it leaves the mug and enters my mouth, and I would prefer not to have to think about every sip of coffee washing over a hunk of sludge.
Between you and me, OXO, it is probably for the best if you also never mention to anyone that when they (or their dish elves) hand-wash their mugs that they should remove the rubber gasket that helps the lid do its clicky-seal thing. Because oh! the horrifying gunk that covers the rubber gasket! I saw something like that in a public restroom once, right before I decided to never use public restrooms again.
Fun fact: you should probably also never tell someone who has been washing the rubber gasket that, actually, look closer because on some lids there are two gaskets! Two! Just look at the years of sludge underneath that second gasket you never knew about! What a fun surprise that is going to make you cry!
So, OXO, I will be awaiting the arrival of my magical dish-elf, or a better lid design.
P.S. Don’t forget to punch some air holes in the box for my elf.