There’s an extremely strange syndrome that affects containers like toothpaste tubes as you close-in on the last few squeezes. It seems like you never reach the bottom. Has this ever happened to you?
It sure has to me. Way more than once. And this applies to toothpaste, shaving cream, deodorant, body spray, mouthwash, soap – you seem to get near the end of the product, so you go to the store to buy a new one in preparation of needing it within the next week or two at the longest. Three weeks later, or even three months, you’re still milking the last few drops.
I’m not sure what to term this. Perhaps, “the never-ending toothpaste tube.” If we’re to name this syndrome, we must capture the full range of its capabilities.
The issue raised its head in our household the past couple of weeks because back in December I chose to stock up on deodorant and body spray. My body spray was done and the deodorant stick was on its last legs. Hefting the light plastic deodorant dispenser, I figured it was history in the next week. I went out and bought both, and they continue to sit on the shelf because the deodorant stick maintains its ability to slowly emerge as the button is rotated.
Based on personal historical averages, the stick should be in the ash heap. Instead, it keeps coming back for more. This seems to happen at the end of containers, not when you first twist off the cap and brush your teeth or apply the blue cake to your hairy underarms.
Why, when you first unscrew the lid of your shaving cream or toothpaste, does the first-third seem to dispense so quickly? You buy something in June and by August, you start thinking you’ll need to stock up in a month.
During phase two, the toothpaste, soap or cream appears to develop a slowing down ability so it doesn’t come out so quickly or in vast amounts. This could be a personal response, as you subconsciously don’t squeeze the tube as hard or apply as much to your face, teeth or other body parts. You begin to hoard. You start to imagine how long you can make the product last.
At the final-third stage of these types of products, your mental mindset morphs again, this time into conservation mode. Because you don’t want to spend money, your subconscious tells you to use less and less.
As you apply this concept to your toothpaste, you figure out how little you really need to brush your teeth. In fact, you can just use your toothbrush and no paste, letting the residual taste of previous tooth brushings lend flavor to your twice-daily ritual.
Why do we act this way as the container gets near the end of its lifecycle and not at the beginning? Is it easier to squeeze the tube or dispense the shaving cream during those early weeks? Do we not think about how much we’re using and what a waste so much of it is?
Or is there a physical law in play: “The last ounce of a personal product takes three times longer to use than the first ounce based on thermodynamic probability and the quantum laws of random physics.” Yeah, that sounds about right.
Measure this next time you go through the lifecycle of one of your personal grooming products. Pay attention to use patterns. Do they go up or down over time? Keep a diary. Write down your thoughts.
Maybe you’ll be able to come up with a novel theory and publish it to spectacular reviews. Then you’ll be able to waste all the soap, shaving cream, toothpaste, deodorant and mouthwash you want.
It sure has to me. Way more than once. And this applies to toothpaste, shaving cream, deodorant, body spray, mouthwash, soap – you seem to get near the end of the product, so you go to the store to buy a new one in preparation of needing it within the next week or two at the longest. Three weeks later, or even three months, you’re still milking the last few drops.
I’m not sure what to term this. Perhaps, “the never-ending toothpaste tube.” If we’re to name this syndrome, we must capture the full range of its capabilities.
The issue raised its head in our household the past couple of weeks because back in December I chose to stock up on deodorant and body spray. My body spray was done and the deodorant stick was on its last legs. Hefting the light plastic deodorant dispenser, I figured it was history in the next week. I went out and bought both, and they continue to sit on the shelf because the deodorant stick maintains its ability to slowly emerge as the button is rotated.
Based on personal historical averages, the stick should be in the ash heap. Instead, it keeps coming back for more. This seems to happen at the end of containers, not when you first twist off the cap and brush your teeth or apply the blue cake to your hairy underarms.
Why, when you first unscrew the lid of your shaving cream or toothpaste, does the first-third seem to dispense so quickly? You buy something in June and by August, you start thinking you’ll need to stock up in a month.
During phase two, the toothpaste, soap or cream appears to develop a slowing down ability so it doesn’t come out so quickly or in vast amounts. This could be a personal response, as you subconsciously don’t squeeze the tube as hard or apply as much to your face, teeth or other body parts. You begin to hoard. You start to imagine how long you can make the product last.
At the final-third stage of these types of products, your mental mindset morphs again, this time into conservation mode. Because you don’t want to spend money, your subconscious tells you to use less and less.
As you apply this concept to your toothpaste, you figure out how little you really need to brush your teeth. In fact, you can just use your toothbrush and no paste, letting the residual taste of previous tooth brushings lend flavor to your twice-daily ritual.
Why do we act this way as the container gets near the end of its lifecycle and not at the beginning? Is it easier to squeeze the tube or dispense the shaving cream during those early weeks? Do we not think about how much we’re using and what a waste so much of it is?
Or is there a physical law in play: “The last ounce of a personal product takes three times longer to use than the first ounce based on thermodynamic probability and the quantum laws of random physics.” Yeah, that sounds about right.
Measure this next time you go through the lifecycle of one of your personal grooming products. Pay attention to use patterns. Do they go up or down over time? Keep a diary. Write down your thoughts.
Maybe you’ll be able to come up with a novel theory and publish it to spectacular reviews. Then you’ll be able to waste all the soap, shaving cream, toothpaste, deodorant and mouthwash you want.
