This article is a work of satire
Come on Pick ’n Pay, let’s get serious. You expect me to be excited by your 24 little rubber characters, characters that thousands of soccer moms and primary school princesses are collecting and trading across the country? To whoever thought this idea up, I have no idea who you are, but I can say this with certainty: You definitely aren’t a 90’s kid.
When we products of the pre-millennial decade think of collectables, we think of Tazos. We think of marbles. We think of trading cards, from Pokemon to Yu-gi-yoh. We think of those sticker collections that used to come out with every newly released animated movie, or sporting world cup. We think your scrawny little monsters fall at the feet of these grand and noble collecting enterprises. Guess how many unique Pokémon cards, (excluding promos and giveaways, obviously) have been printed?
No, not 24.
Not even 2400.
Try 9184, to be exact.
And you expect me to see 24 satanic little figurines as a challenge…fFor shame!
And don’t even get me started on Tazos. Back in my day, I ate potato crisps until they no longer had any effect on my taste buds. With my last R3.50 I would buy a packet of my least favourite Simba chips just because there was a rumour that they were more likely to hold a Rhydon. And when I found the elusive Misty, I screamed “Yabba-dabba-doo!” so loudly in a parking lot that my mother dropped all her shopping. And still, in the tarmac-tainting mess of broken eggs and low-fat milk and soggy cereal and melting toilet paper, I scrambled along the ground to ensure I didn’t leave that packet of chips for tomorrow’s lunchbox lifeless and lost. Not that I scavenged any of the chips. Just the Tazo.
I have no idea what kids these days spend their pocket money on. Probably airtime and data so that they can keep gawking over Taylor Swift’s latest garbled Tweet. Not us. Every cent we made, be it from washing cars or sidling up to our grandparents, was just another Booster pack waiting to be bought, our hopeful eyes flicking through the plush new cards, eager to see something new, something rare, something to make us the playground envy.
And when we traded, we didn’t post photos up on the web with stupid little smileys and LOLs. “Please let me know if anyone out there has a hippo! I will trade! J J J Haha LOL xx #StikeeLove”. Stop embarrassing yourselves! We knew how to do a real trade: under the slide at the back of the playground with our blazers covering our hands and friends positioned on lookout for the fuzz. We drove hard bargains, we made breakneck decisions, and at times we even risked it all with heart-stopping duels, our collections on the line. It was like twisted nine-year-old Russian roulette.
You see, tempting us with 24 silly characters is like tempting a chocoholic with carrot sticks – you’re missing the boat! Until you actually offer us something real worth collecting, forget about it.