Why are men in commercials invariably portrayed as stupid (aside from the fact that many men are stupid)?
One local HVAC company runs two commercials several times a day. The first features a father with three adorable little girls, probably between five and ten, telling him that the house is falling apart. The youngest has a mischievous smile and undoubtedly has Daddy wrapped around her little finger.
“Dad, the heat isn’t working!”
“Dad, the toilet is backed up again!”
Dad, this is a nice house, and you appear to have a lot of money, so why aren’t you taking care of it properly?
Dad, looking dejected, says, “OK, I guess I’d better call someone. Hand me the phone book.”
The youngest innocently replies, “What’s a phone book?”
After the voiceover tells the viewer about the company’s wonderful, prompt and competent service, the commercial ends with the little one sitting on Daddy’s lap. In one version, he says, “What would I do without you girls?” and the little one’s zinger is, “That’s a very good question.”
Another ending has Dad asking, “How do you know about all this?” The little one responds “We’re girls, we know things!”
The other ad for this company is a version of “Is Timmy in the well?” The family dog is by the furnace and starts barking.
“What is it boy?”
*Bark bark!”
“I changed the furnace filter.”
*Bark bark bark!”
“Do you think we need a new furnace?”
You need a dog to tell you to get a new furnace, dumbass?
A rival HVAC company preys on the idea that men are unreliable when it comes to maintenance requests.
Dad to adult daughter: You wanted me to look at your furnace?
Husband to wife: You wanted me to check out the electrical problem?
Women’s answer: You took too long so I called PQR company!
Men’s predictable answer: OK, so it’s done. (Good, because I didn’t wanna do it in the first place. Took you long enough to get the hint, eh?)
A young suburban homeowner wants the insurance protection of that company whose logo is a red roof, but he’s obviously too cheap to pony up, so he’s jerry-rigged a wooden roof outline over his house and is painting it red. Two famous Canadian guys from a famous Canadian house show tell him, “That’s not how it works.” Well, DUH!
Speaking of insurance, there’s that company whose spokesman, a PhD (Phony Doctorate) life coach who says, “We can’t keep you from turning into your parents.” Said by the guy wearing a knit sweater vest from the 1980s. Then they give examples of egregious parent-like behavior:
• Three guys giving a fourth unsolicited advice on building a fire in the backyard firepit.
• Guys obsessed with the weather, calling each other with updates.
• Obsessive host hovering around guests at a backyard cookout; the husband is wearing an apron with a “Kiss-the-Cook” type message.
• A guy at a gas station striking up an unwanted conversation with another guy because he can’t stand the silence.
Now, I’m a parent and a grandparent and I don’t know anyone who pulls this shit. These characters appear to be middle-class white suburbanites, but I live in a nice suburban neighborhood and the only person I talk to is the guy across the street and only when we’re both outside. I might text the local relatives if there’s a tornado warning, or my sister-in-law to make sure their basement isn’t flooding when we have torrential rain, an occurrence that has become far less frequent with climate change. I’ve never seen guys talking to each other at a gas station. I have a nondescript, Southwestern motif apron, and a vinyl blood splatter-proof Dexter apron my daughter bought me. My grill conversation is:
“What kind of cheese do you want on your burger?”
“How burnt do you want your hot dogs?”
“How about you move the hell away from the patio door, or help me bring this stuff inside instead of just running your mouth at the kitchen counter?”
Maybe it’s just the curmudgeon in me, but I think we deserve a little more consideration by whatever idiots write ad copy.