Dear Steve Jobs,
After careful observation of my two year-old’s use of our house iMac, I would like to suggest a new addition to the Finder menubar that you may include in your next update of OS X. (The only remuneration I request is that you name this version Maine Coon Cat after my dearly departed pet.)
As part of your drive to make computers breathtakingly easy for managing one life and iLife, I think you’ll appreciate how this new menu will save parental users hours of reading through software manuals and fruitlessly calling on the Geek Squad, as well as in the prevention of nervous breakdowns. See my suggestion below, complete with the full slate of pull-down options:
Undestroy
Mom’s Photos
Dad’s iTunes Library
Preferences Settings
Login password
Reboot disc for restoring password
Browser bookmarks
Program storing all account passwords
All data related to finances
Keyboard
Mouse
Audio Jack for sound system
Software, starting with most expensive
Scanner
Printer
Patience
I look forward to seeing these changes on my new laptop that’s now kept on the top shelf in my closet and is only used during nap times and after toddler bedtime.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Kiddonomics
One good thing about the reduced working hours I suffered at the hands of the recession—plenty of time to think about careers that are bubble-pop proof. Of course I read articles in The New York Times and Wall Street Journal, but the real ah-ha moments hit me at the playground, where amid the slides and swings was a constant flow of lost, dropped, and broken items that would surely need replacing. I had always known that baby gear is pretty much always going to be in demand, but given the amount of product loss in certain categories, I’m ready to launch a business that will succeed endlessly. Well, as long as we don’t arrive at the state of society in the film, The Children of Men. So, here are the businesses already coming to life in my head, if not a shopping street near you:
The Single Sock Shop, where you can replace a missing sock rather than tossing the one you have. It’s green, it’s unique. The inventory isn’t complicated—a few styles, a simple color palette. Calling all venture capitalists.
Used Ball Boutique, where parents might have a chance at finding their lost orb and getting it back for a small handling fee, or they can replace their lost bouncer with another found ball in the collection. Only one person need staff the store, but I will have to hire a team of ball catchers.
Toy Trauma Center, where missing wheels get replaced, cracked parts get glued, and battered dolls can get limb transplants. I don’t need a medical degree, just a big bottle of Gorilla Glue, screwdrivers, and a wide-variety of battery sizes. The hospital will recycle dead toy batteries as a part of its green initiative, and encourage the families of patient to consider organ donations once their children are done with a particular toy.
Low-Jack Bottles, a purveyor of sippy cups, sport bottles and baby bottles equipped with chips that make tracking their whereabouts from your own PC easy. Able to work even when the bottle in question is beneath the slide, hidden in a tree trunk, or, deep inhale, is secreted away in another parent’s stroller because it’s a fancy aluminum one. Standard bottle can be retrofitted with the system at a modest fee.
Single Shoe Shop, an off-shoot of the single sock shop, featuring a selection of found shoes as well as new shoes so generic they’ll work well-enough with the one shoe left in a precious pair. Certainly a nice sneaker with a big O on the side pairs up nicely with a New Balance shoe. And heck, it spells “No,” every toddler’s favorite word.
Binky Vending Machines, located in every playground across the nation, insert 50-cents, get a new pacifier to mollify the child who spat their prior one into the bushes, onto the dirty floor of the park bathroom, or at a dog good at baptizing everything with its wet nose. Product selection will also include single Cheerios, pretzels, and cheese puffs to replace that one special one that fell on the ground, got snagged by a sparrow or squirrel, and has left your child despondent, despite the fact that you have a whole bag full right there.
The Single Sock Shop, where you can replace a missing sock rather than tossing the one you have. It’s green, it’s unique. The inventory isn’t complicated—a few styles, a simple color palette. Calling all venture capitalists.
Used Ball Boutique, where parents might have a chance at finding their lost orb and getting it back for a small handling fee, or they can replace their lost bouncer with another found ball in the collection. Only one person need staff the store, but I will have to hire a team of ball catchers.
Toy Trauma Center, where missing wheels get replaced, cracked parts get glued, and battered dolls can get limb transplants. I don’t need a medical degree, just a big bottle of Gorilla Glue, screwdrivers, and a wide-variety of battery sizes. The hospital will recycle dead toy batteries as a part of its green initiative, and encourage the families of patient to consider organ donations once their children are done with a particular toy.
Low-Jack Bottles, a purveyor of sippy cups, sport bottles and baby bottles equipped with chips that make tracking their whereabouts from your own PC easy. Able to work even when the bottle in question is beneath the slide, hidden in a tree trunk, or, deep inhale, is secreted away in another parent’s stroller because it’s a fancy aluminum one. Standard bottle can be retrofitted with the system at a modest fee.
Single Shoe Shop, an off-shoot of the single sock shop, featuring a selection of found shoes as well as new shoes so generic they’ll work well-enough with the one shoe left in a precious pair. Certainly a nice sneaker with a big O on the side pairs up nicely with a New Balance shoe. And heck, it spells “No,” every toddler’s favorite word.
Binky Vending Machines, located in every playground across the nation, insert 50-cents, get a new pacifier to mollify the child who spat their prior one into the bushes, onto the dirty floor of the park bathroom, or at a dog good at baptizing everything with its wet nose. Product selection will also include single Cheerios, pretzels, and cheese puffs to replace that one special one that fell on the ground, got snagged by a sparrow or squirrel, and has left your child despondent, despite the fact that you have a whole bag full right there.
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