‘I look at the graveyard of mini laundry detergents, water bottles and Tim Tams and think to myself that this is what my life has become. Just a man surrounded suspiciously with miniature plastic shopping items.’
‘I look at the graveyard of mini laundry detergents, water bottles and Tim Tams and think to myself that this is what my life has become. Just a man surrounded suspiciously with miniature plastic shopping items.’

‘Dear Coles, we need to chat’

Dear Coles,

We need to chat.

As a parent of a six-year-old I'm officially declaring shenanigans on you and your marketing team. This cunning group of evil geniuses has concocted a strategy so blatant and bold in its execution that I'm now in the depths of despair.

I'm talking about your goddamn mini collectables.

The moment I saw the advertisement hit the screen I boldly declared to my wife, "Not in this household. No way. No how."

The Coles mini collectables are the bane of Greg’s existence.
The Coles mini collectables are the bane of Greg’s existence.

Then it happened. A relative 'kindly' handed over several packs of the minis she'd been holding onto and BAM! My daughter is obsessed.

* For more stories like this, head to Kidspot

Schoolyard trading begins and her collection grows with minimal effort. I'm suddenly being encouraged and marketed to by my six-year-old personal shopper.

 

An exhausted Greg with his children.
An exhausted Greg with his children.

"We should go to Coles, I think we need some shopping," she suggested.

You catching my drift on where this is going?

I decide to do the only rational thing any father would do and I try to assist her in completing her collection as soon as possible so that I can stop hearing about your shop, being asked if I can visit your shop and worst of all - being encouraged to buy shoe polish 'just like the one in her collection' (I don't even use shoe polish).

Trouble is, the stakes are getting higher and the other day I hit rock bottom when, like some kind of ultra shady unit, I found myself scoping out the self-serve counter in the hopes someone had left their collectables behind.

Some people (clearly parents) looked at me with pity. Some looked at me with disgust. Others looked at me thinking 'why is a 32-year-old man attempting to collect children's toys?'.

My daughter still has eight left to collect and we're running out of time. You've turned the pressure notch up to 11 in the D-1 household and frankly I'm not sure I'm going to be able to deliver.

Greg is a popular blogger as ‘Dad Minus One’
Greg is a popular blogger as ‘Dad Minus One’

I look at the graveyard of mini laundry detergents, water bottles and Tim Tams and think to myself that this is what my life has become. Just a man surrounded suspiciously with miniature plastic shopping items.

As a broken man, I acknowledge the dastardly brilliance of your campaign and humbly beg of you to never, ever, ever do something like this again. You don't know anxiety until you've experienced the tense emotions associated with caressing a packet in the hopes you've found the coveted mini Milo tin or if you've just been cursed by the dreaded mini laundry detergent of doom for the eighteenth time.

I implore you as a parent to stop the madness.

Yours in desperation,

D-1 and his house of miniature plastics.

This post originally appeared on Dad Minus One and has been republished here with permission.



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