Sunday, December 18, 2016
You know, I'm going to skip some of the obvious points I could go for in this stupid, overlong ad- like how the barber guy could possibly know what the next best move is in a chess game being played across the freaking room from his chair, or how annoying the zoom-in-and-slow-down bit is when the writers just want to slap the "Tresiba Ready" label on the screen and play the little jingle, or how that barber shop guy uses an acronym I don't recognize and don't think I should be expected to know.
That's because I'm too irritated at how freaking thrilled to death the woman in her late-fifties seems to be to have a job waiting freaking tables. It's ok that she maybe enjoys her job a little, or is a naturally cheerful person, or just very good at swallowing her resentment at the really crap hand life has dealt her. But her attitude in this commercial makes me wonder if Tresiba is just a combination of pixie stick sugar, caffeine and illegal uppers. Take it down a notch, woman! You'll get your freaking tip! At least the delivery man hauling big-screen tvs to rich white couples in the posh suburbs in the middle of the freaking night doesn't look like he's impossibly thrilled to be doing it. And the barber shop guy looks like he might be managing his own business and setting his own hours and not working all that hard, so he's got SOME excuse for the ridiculous Permanent Grin of Insanity.
Oh, and I don't know what this medication is even supposed to do. Just that if I'm prescribed it I can take it any time of day- so maybe it really was developed for people who have slave-labor jobs like two of these characters. Yay Tresiba.