When it comes to the kitchen, I consider myself a creative amateur. I’m like the 12 year old that offers to fix dad’s ailing engine and then proceeds to use a whole lot of duct tape. When I cook, I tend to do some impromptu experimenting like they do in that food network show – Chopped, but if I ever had to compete, I’m sure I’d be the first contestant eliminated.
Eggplant – is that a meat, or a vegetable, or an antelope’s uterus.
I tell you this because I want you to understand that I’m competent (not confident…competent) around the kitchen. But there’s one thing that embarrasses me like the climbing rope does to a scrawny 6th grader in gym class. And that is Tupperware.
Without fail, every time I go to put away leftovers, the Tupperware drawer befuddles me. Once I find the perfect container to store the leftovers, I then dig through all the plastic pieces, searching for its perfect lid mate, frantically swiping left and right like a desperate man using Tinder on a Saturday night.
Maybe this will fit. No. Okay, maybe this one. Nope, I’m wrong again. I’m wrong like a dozen times. And the worst part is, I’ve already put the food in the container, so I’m kind of pot committed, you know. That’s the perfect size for the food, and I’m not just going to soil a dish without giving it the old college try. The lid is somewhere. It’s gotta be, I say as I dig through the drawer like a squirrel burying an acorn in the dirt.
The worst part is that with Tupperware, close doesn’t count. Nope, it has to be an exact match. That Rubbermaid lid looks like it would be the perfect fit on that plastic storage container that came with your General Tso’s chicken, but you can push all you want, it ain’t gonna snap on. They’re like Legos. You know how your mom tried to cheat and buy you the cheap knock-off Legos and tell you they were the real deal? Well, you figure out pretty quickly when the holes are like fractions of a millimeter off. It’s like Shaq swatting your feeble layups. Nope, don’t bring that knock-off stuff in here. My tupperware mocks me.
So here’s my question. You know how we standardize everything in this country? We standardize measurements. We’ve even come up with our own stupid illogical English measurements (but that’s for another day). We standardize tests. We standardize liquids like milk, wine, and gasoline. We standardize building codes. So why the heck can’t we standardize tupperware sizes? Can someone explain that to me?
I’m not stupid. I know the answer. It’s because if I have to buy your collection of tupperware, then I’m trapped in your plastic ecosystem. The second I switch, well, all bets are off that I’m going to find the matching lid. And because tupperware lasts a long time, maybe companies switch sizes to force you to buy whole new sets. So when your lid melts in the dishwasher, you’ve got to buy the 2016 5-piece set. It’s kind of like how car companies discontinue certain parts and force you to buy new cars. What your window doesn’t work? Well, they discontinued that size, so I guess you have to buy a whole new car. It’s a smart business model for making money.
But it’s also stupid, because everyday it makes me look foolish in front of my 5 year old. As I start throwing pieces of plastic and ranting about how tupperware is the antichrist. It’s gotten to the point that when I walk down the tupperware aisle in the grocery store, I want to smash my jar of olives on the floor. Clean up in aisle 13. Well, I guess no one’s going to be getting to the tupperware anytime soon.
Unfortunately, we’re having a presidential election. And that’s unfortunate for a number of reasons, but most of all, it’s unfortunate because candidates are talking about building walls and giving kids free college, but the thing that nobody has mentioned is standardized tupperware sizes. Yep, this is where I’m at as a voter. This is my first world, middle class problem – freaking tupperware.
Now that I think about it, I don’t think that it would take much to solve the issue. What if we had malleable tupperware, so we could contort it ever so slightly to become that perfect match. Yeah, it would probably involve all sorts of unsafe and environmentally harmful materials. Dolphins would probably have to die in order to make this product. But dangit, it would mean that I wouldn’t stand there looking like a fool in my own kitchen.