I like breakfast just as much as the next person. In fact, I have a borderline unhealthy relationship with breakfast. Sometimes I get so impatient waiting for morning to arrive with its promise of breakfasty goodness that I eat breakfast foods at non-traditional breakfast hours. I have been known to eat French toast for dinner and have mid-afternoon smoothies. I’ve even had eggs Benedict at decidedly un-benedictine times and places.
So it’s with disappointment that I inform you of a deep betrayal by granola. Not just any granola: Granola to fit my daily adventure. As you can see, my approved daily adventure(s) include birdwatching and/or photography, hiking, generic outdoor sporting, hugging small children in parks, and being a mustachioed yachter from the late ’70s.
Since I don’t live in the land of the Permanent Weekend, this granola box, instead of tempting me with larger-than-life representations of Serving Suggestion Onlies, just makes me sad. My daily adventures almost never include sunshine (mostly it rains), outdoor leisure sports or yachting. They certainly don’t include child-hugging in public parks, which would only get me arrested anyway.
My daily adventure looks a lot more like this:
I’d be much happier if my breakfast food was less aspirational and more … whatever the opposite of aspirational is. Why don’t dry-cereal shillers try making me feel good about my dreary daily routine for a change? They could, for example, put pictures of bums on the box. That way, I could look at it and think, “Hey, you know what I like about this granola? I got it out of my own cupboard, and I’m eating it in the privacy of my own kitchen. All this time in a windowless office building is paying off after all!”
Except then I’d probably just end up taking the box outside and handing it to a bum. I suppose the granola marketers have hit the magic formula on the head with their cheesy clipart models. I can now happily munch away in the knowledge that I, like their models, am a vaguely outdoorsy, healthy middle- to upper-middle-class type, and most certainly not a bum or a bore in a blazer.
Those interested in this kind of crap will be interested to know that the company that makes this cereal has actually built an entire brand around this slogan. It’s easy for me to make fun of this granola since the marketing isn’t as sophisticated as I’m used to, but the flaws I find here are present in varying degrees in all marketing.What do you think?