I ate a “fruit on the bottom” yogurt today. It occurred to me that there was probably a meeting at Big Yogurt Company International at some point when all the powerful yogurt mongers sat around a boardroom table discussing the problem of keeping fruit yogurt mixed properly after it has sat on a shelf for most of its best-before date. (Or, if it's at my local grocer's, twice that time.)
Some guy at that meeting—I prefer to think he was the new guy, just promoted from the stock room after being spotted reading the employee handbook on his lunch break, and maybe his name was Bradly or something with a K, and he'd recently been dumped by that blonde who sorts the big spoons down in the Blending And Stirring Department, whose name was definitely Shirley—finally spoke up: “Why don't we just not mix it at all?”
Uproar! Commotion! Rhubarb! What was this lad blathering about? At Big Yogurt Company International, they prided themselves in their quality assurance. They'd been making yogurt since back when it was still sold as curdled milk to keep the rats away. And when a yogurt needed a mixing, well then by golly it was going to get a mixing.
But then New Guy Bradly or something with a K explained: “I'm just saying, we could leave it unmixed and call it Fruit On The Bottom yogurt. It'd be a mix-it-yourself product. Very empowering to the busy homemaker or the middle management types. We could market our liability as a strength.”
They were impressed, hanging on his every word. He paused, just the right amount of time, and then sealed the deal: “Oh hey, here's a thought. We could save a bundle by firing the entire Blending And Stirring Department.”
Anyway, that's what I thought when I ate the yogurt, which was strawberry-banana.
