A couple weeks ago my husband, who was working on a creativity project for one of his doctoral courses, asked me to help him brainstorm a list of problems that could be solved by inventing something.
Of course, nothing really came to mind. [Performance anxiety? I’m usually a world-class brainstormer.]
I do wish someone would invent a teleporter so we could avoid the painful nature of flying these days. And something to banish email from my inbox — I guess that could be accomplished through more workplace conversations and liberal use of sticky notes?
A week later, I found myself in the break room at work, snagging a quick lunch break. Instead of leftovers, I had one of the new Campbells “kettle style” soups — no preservatives, better ingredients, yadda yadda. It’s pre-packaged soup, people. I just needed nourishment to survive.
But see, these prepackaged soup containers require you to take your life and the safety of your wardrobe in your clumsy hands — have you ever tried to pry the metal lid off one of these death traps?
Impossible without splutting soup everywhere. It’s the last centimeter that’ll get you – the pop of the lid provokes some atomic force to disturb all the soup molecules at once AND aim them squarely at your chest.
If you manage to survive the uncapping unscathed, there’s always the possibility of singeing your finger with the nuclearly hot metal ring left on top of the container once it comes out of the microwave.
I love how Campbells suggests you remove the soup from their handy portable packaging and heat it on a stovetop. Right. Because that’s why I buy portable soup-for-lunch — so I can also bring a pot & a bowl & a spoon and AN ENTIRE RANGE to work with me.
So there. I have the perfect problem for creative inventors to solve. We need a new soup-delivery mechanism that will preserve both fingers and clothing from the deadly attack of the American working lunch.
When you make millions by patenting your new soup delivery method, remember me with about 5% of that, k?
I write. I design. I cook. I read. I make music. I talk to people -- all kinds of people.
I used to teach and hopefully will do so again someday.
My dream job would be a cross between barrista and consultant, with a large helping of international travel and bohemian wandering through concerts, museums, galleries, and open spaces.
Somewhere back in time, my students started calling me "RameyLady" and the name stuck. I like it. There's a Ramey-man too. He's a much better writer but he seems to be too humble to share it with the world....at least, not yet.