I bought a big, new, black, plastic garbage can to put out at the street for collection by my city every week. Thirty dollars or so.
Today I noticed, as I was removing a sticker from it, that it has a lifetime warranty. Really?
I am 61 now. When I am 91 and the thing falls apart as I drag it out to the curb, will I really contact somebody about it to get my money back?
The store I bought it at will probably be gone by then. Maybe even the company that made it will no longer be in business. So how much time am I going to be able to spend by then tracking down the people who promised to replace my garbage can if it breaks before my life is over? And it will break because plastic eventually becomes brittle and cracks, especially in a cold climate such as we have in Canada.
And with our garbage pickup guys treating it like they are roping a wild bull at a rodeo, its lifespan will be limited for sure.
So why print “lifetime warranty” on this thing when everyone knows that except for the first few months or even years, if all goes well, those words hold absolutely no meaning? Unless our garbage pickup guys start treating my can as gently as they would if they were knitting a sweater.
It would have been just as true to have printed on the label: “The makers of this product guarantee a warranty on the lifetime of the buyer.”
To be guaranteed to outlive my garbage can and maybe exist forever is a promise I just might try to collect on.
I like it when sensible things like this occur to me.
©2012 Jim Hagarty
