Diet Coke ‘Do You Do’ campaign anchors the future of brand to ‘lit’ cultural trends
She reached for the can from the shelf and stopped herself. She didn’t mind that she’d turned fifty. She still thought of herself as young. She’d been a punk. She liked to swear. She didn’t think her language was middle-aged and she didn’t need a can talking to her in what some algorithm determined was middle-aged speak just because her fifty-year-old fingers had touched it and activated some software that wrote fifty-speak onto the digital label. “I am not a number, I am a free…” she muttered. “What do you want? Information! You won’t get it!” scrolled around the label.
She reached for the can from the shelf and swiftly put it back down.
She asked the puzzled woman next to her to pick the can up and drop it in her basket. Angrily she took the can out and slammed it back onto the shelf. She didn’t say anything. She wanted to. She wanted to swear but the voice assistants on the shelf were attentive. Listening and feeding back to the cans. She kept her expression as neutral as she could, knowing that that would never be enough.
She really wanted that can. Really. She though of knocking it into the basket but knew she’d still have to reach in and take it out if not at the door scanner, at least at home and then the damn thing would change again.
She didn’t mind that she’d turned fifty. She liked being mature but she still thought of herself as young. She’d been a punk for goodness sake. She liked to swear. She didn’t think her language was middle aged and she certainly didn’t need a can talking to her in what its algorithm determined was fifty-speak just because her fifty-year-old fingers had touched it and activated some software that wrote fifty-speak onto the digital label.
The kid next to her picked up the can and giggled as the label strung symbols and abbreviations across the label. He didn’t mind. He probably didn’t even notice and if he did, he was just amused by the linguistic dad dancing. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to be linguistically pigeon-holed, condescended to. She refused to be addressed as a demographic. “I am not a number, I am a free…” she muttered.
Damn, from microphone through payment profile to linguistic position, the algorithm had probably already matched the reference. She picked up the can. Sure enough: “what do you want? Information! You won’t get it!” scrolled around the label.