minalisms

“While popularly regarded as the Festival of Lights, the most significant meaning of Diwali is the awareness of one’s own inner light.”

Once my mom and I were through discussing annual Diwali traditions over the phone today, conversation segued to family and my in-laws.

“How is everyone?” she asked, “I know Suzy is very excited about Diwali.”

“Are Joe and Claire doing good?”

“How is little Ian? He’s going to be Elmo for Halloween!”

She inquired about the usual suspects, and I followed up with four or five variations of “They’re fine.”

Just when I thought we had gotten past formalities, she offered: “Well, Sonal is still sick, and Christina is getting sick too. …And Anne is now moving to Missouri, right?”

I paused for a nanosecond, disoriented by my mother’s insight into the lives of folks I know more than she does. Then I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said, still amused. “You’re just a far better Facebooker than me.”

It turns out yesterday’s rant didn’t go unnoticed in Pepsi Co.’s inbox. I received the following e-mail this morning:

Dear Minal,

Thank you for contacting us regarding the AMP iPhone application.

After reading your comments, it’s apparent that you were upset by this promotion, and we appreciate the opportunity to respond to your concerns.

The AMP application is only available to iPhone users 17 yeras and older who choose to opt in to the experience. It was designed to be entertaining and appeal to a select audience of AMP energy drink consumers.

Again, thank you for writing. Please know that I promise to share your feedback with the brand team and that we do appreciate hearing your candid and sincere thoughts.

Sincerely,

Gail Ahearn
Consumer Relations Representative

012147168A

Once I overcame the surprise of being contacted, I smiled at my display of activism; that despite assumptions to the contrary, somebody was around to hear me out. Perhaps I can propel positive change.

So use your voice — often — instead of giving someone else — someone dumb — room to speak for you. Because sometimes it’s not the cause that matters (be it sexist software, healthcare reform, anti-war), it’s the encouraging realization that your voice carries volume.

Oh, Pepsi Co., do you employ Neanderthals? Because based on your new iPhone app, “AMP UP Before You Score,” I’m positive that you have minimal knowledge on business, image and taste.

Firstly, I get it — I get that your “energy drink” is primarily marketed to teens through 30-something boys, because god knows they need help mustering up energy. But even more so, AMP Energy exists to give Cool Guy his cool, Skater Dude his tricks and Mr. Pussy more vaginas than even a harem in heaven can offer. Seriously, I GET IT.

But why, in this latest marketing maneuver, are you being such a jerk?

I don’t care how many woman-haters in your boardroom grunted with approval over the idea of “AMP UP Before You Score” — a mobile software application that encourages zeroes to feel like heroes by publicizing their sexual conquests via Twitter, Facebook and e-mail — but, silly Pepsi, you just shot yourself in the stanky leg.

And after all the flak that’s surfaced because of your indecency — by way of women and men — you said:

“Our app tried 2 show the humorous lengths guys go 2 pick up women. We apologize if it’s in bad taste & appreciate your feedback. #pepsifail.”

Thank you, Pepsi, for showing the country that you have as much taste as the douchebags who will use your app and contract a venereal disease that will burn like hell.

Today, about 2:30 in the afternoon, I got a text message from a friend who notified me (and probably the rest of her Address Book contacts) of an “Amber Alert” arising from an alleged local kidnapping.

The text, which also had been forwarded to my friend, divulged the place of alleged incident, make of a car and a license plate number. The tail-end of the message read: “KEEP THIS GOING. YOU WOULD IF IT WAS YOUR CHILD!”

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I didn’t keep the message going.

My initial reaction certainly was to send it blazing through our telecommunications highway — to every one of my contacts — but as I began to compose my very own text message, skepticism stood up to call a Time Out.

It’s now 4:13 p.m., and I’ve spent the past 90-plus minutes agonizing about my decision to not forward this message. Instead, I scoured Snopes.com, visited the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, signed up for wireless Amber Alerts and e-mailed two government agencies seeking for validation of the alleged kidnapping.

But I couldn’t just pass on a simple text message to friends for the sake of empathy and worry? Even if it turned out to be wrong?

It feels as though I never left journalism.