Change = Bad

A friend of mine in college once proposed the above theory regarding life in general. Of course, I don’t think this is universally true, but there are some areas of life in which the formula fundamentally, undeniably applies. Change = bad.

On the other hand, my father once pointed out that human beings seem to be extremely resistant to change, but that once our resistance breaks, we accept the new state of things and the old ways fade in a big hurry. Cultural amnesia strikes very quickly, especially with regards to things that we take for granted. Remember when that strip mall used to be just a nice empty field? Yes, you remember, but you have to squint your memory pretty hard to picture it, and it doesn’t make you as mad now as it did when you first found out it was going to happen. Or how about your local bank, which has changed names six times in the past eight years? Irritating, yes, but you probably can’t recall all of the bygone company monikers. Along the same lines but less likely to be truly bothersome is the product logo or package. Case in point: Trident Gum.

By way of preface, I chew gum the way some people smoke. Okay, not quite, but six pieces is a pretty average day. Thank you, four out of five dentists, for stamping my habit with a gigantic “good for your teeth” endorsement. I think fresh breath is an important part of daily life, and chewing gum also keeps me attentive on long car trips (of which I take quite a few). Trident has been my gum of choice for about six or seven years now, since the day that I realized that Extra just wasn’t meeting my chewing needs. In seven years, Trident has been one of those very small bedrocks in my life. It always looked the same, and it always tasted the same. A small, unbending tree in the gale force winds of life. Until last week.

To recap, here is what the old Trident package looked like:

Solid design all around. Not too flashy, as it is just gum, for crying out loud. Unique logo. Good, simple endorsements regarding chewing length and dental health. Most important, that solid, grade-school-blocky blue-white-red color scheme, reiterating that this is Trident. The. Trident. Gum. A steady, reliable bastion of gum normalcy in this mad mad world of metal-lined pop-out containers and gimmick-laden flavor insanity.

Further, consider the wrapper on the individual pieces:

Again, simple, cheerful, stalwart. The tri-color design offers a nice visual variety without being overbearing. This is clearly a gum on which I can rely. My breath will be freshened, but nothing extreme or untoward will happen in my mouth. It will make me happy without causing immorality.

And so, about a week ago, there I stood in the grocery checkout line, faced with this mini-shock to the foundations of my life:

Some creative bastard in the graphic design department had finally gotten his slimy hands on my beloved Trident package, and I was shaken. What is this brilliant light exploding from behind the brand name? Where are my solid blocks of unassuming color? Why is there cursive writing? Was Trident ever a low calorie food? And finally, what the heck is Xylitol?

It was a weak moment, I’ll admit. But I was brave, and I pressed forward, buying a package. A quick comparison of the nutritional information revealed that in calorie terms, nothing had changed. Old Trident and New Trident both offer less than 5 calories per slice (how is this not “low calorie?”). Not that I was worried about it, really, but when your gum reminds you that it is not a low calorie food, it bears a small bit of looking into. Then, I took out a piece:

Needless to say, I was sorely missing the tricolor simplicity of the old wrapper scheme. Although cheerful in reminding me of its dental health, red and black is a pretty dull combination, and I already know that Trident is good for my teeth.

I took the next step, despite struggling in the throes of human change-rejection. And then I found out what Xylitol is. Apparently, it is a chemical that makes my gum taste different. I can’t really describe in what way it tastes different, but it surely as hell does. Is it bad? No, not exactly. It’s just different. And at that moment, chewing my first piece of New Trident, I found myself swimming deep in the equation. Change = bad.

“Oh, for crying out loud, it’s just gum,” you’re saying. “Get over it.” Well, it’s a week later, and, oh, okay, fine. I’m letting it go. I have become accustomed (conspiracy theorists would prefer “addicted”) to this mysterious Xylitol substance, and yep, dad, you were right, I can hardly remember what Old Trident tastes like. I’m moving forward, but it is with the sneaking suspicion that I’ve been had, somehow or another. I am uncomfortable in this New Trident universe, but I don’t have any choice and my amnesiac-brain is quickly dulling that discomfort. I suppose that in the end, I should take this as an example that change = not so bad as you might think, but I’m not entirely sure. Small constants are nice to have. I guess I’ll just have to fall back on the ever-reliable taste and packaging of good old Mountain Dew. They’d never change that.

Oh, and if you want to know what Xylitol is, go here.