I’ve always wanted to live like the people in the Coke commercials: those people are so young and impossibly attractive, and they all have perfect teeth and great hair and you can just tell by looking at them that slurping Coke or Diet Coke is not about quenching thirst but has been elevated to an orgasmic experience.
I wonder if the goal of these ads is to convince people like me that if we drink enough Coke that we will somehow morph into a beautiful young person. If that is the goal, I am here to tell you it doesn’t work. I have consumed more Diet Coke than any 3 or 4 average men combined and, trust me, if a metamorphis was coming, it would have been here long before now.
I was thinking of these ads when I read that the new “Share a Coke” ad campaign is aimed towards getting young people to drink more Coke. Sadly, (for the people at Coke at least) young people are not drinking enough Coke, mainly because they are too busy drinking vodka and smoking dope, so the new Coke campaign puts common “young people’s names” (Amanda! Jess!) on the cans of Coke products. This will supposedly encourage young people to want to call their friends and drink some Coke. Or at least mix it with their vodka.
Clearly, the Coke people don’t care if we middle-aged types buy their product or not, and they have not considered the effect of this ad campaign on Baby Boomers. For example, I was at a Labor Day barbecue when I glanced down and noticed that my can of Diet Coke said, “Share a Diet Coke with Mom!” This made me feel bad because my Mom died last year, so the possibility of sharing a Coke with her was nil.
My younger brother came by. “What’s the matter?” he said. I showed him the can of Diet Coke and we both sighed. “Why is Mom on the Diet Coke can?” he asked after a minute.
“It’s Coke’s new ad campaign. It’s supposed to be fun. It’s to encourage us to call people up and drink some coke. ”
“Really?” said my brother. “They want you to call Mom to have a Coke? Are you supposed to have a séance?” We both giggled but then he looked at his can of Diet Coke: it said “Share a Diet Coke with Irene.” His mood deteriorated immediately. “Irene” is his soon to be ex-wife and they are going through a really nasty divorce; none of us will even whisper Irene’s name because it sends him on a 20-minute rant, which is exactly what happened now.
My older sister pulled me aside. “Why did you mention Irene?” she said. “You know what that does to him.”
“I didn’t,” I said, and I explained about the names on the Coke cans. She looked at her can of Coke. “Share a Coke with your Soulmate,” it said.
My sister, who is widowed, was irritated “My soulmate died,” she said. “I’m all alone.” She glared at her can of Coke. “Thank you, Coca-Cola, for reminding me of that.”
The mood at the party was heading south fast when my friend Carlos came by. “What’s with the tall faces?” said Carlos, whose English is not all it could be.
“Long faces,” I said absently, and he shrugged as though the distinction was marginal. I explained the Coke ad campaign to Carlos; he looked at his can and immediately teared up. “Share a Diet Coke with Buddy!” his can said. Carlos said something in Spanish and threw his can in the trash as though it was radioactive; I patted his shoulder and my sister gave him a hug, because just 3 days earlier his beloved 13 year old Golden retriever, Buddy, had been euthanized.
Well let me tell you, if this ad campaign was designed to make people drink more Coke it was not working. My brother, still muttering about Irene, switched to Diet Pepsi and Carlos made himself a martini, a big one. My sister switched to lemonade and I got a bottle of water. I drink too much Diet Coke anyway.