There wasn't anything to worry about - the doctor found a mild infection that needed an antibiotic, so I decided to pick up the prescription at at the nearby Walgreens. It was while the pharmacist was completing the transaction there that he asked me a question I was not prepared for.
"Would you like that flavored?" he asked.
Puzzled look on Faisal's face. We're talking about antibiotics, not lattes, right?
"Uh. Is that an option?"
"Sure - we can make it cherry or strawberry flavored."
Cool, I thought. I wish this had been around back when I was a child and my mother was shoving the world's worst tasting concoctions down my throat. Back then, you measured the potency of a medicine by how badly it burned your throat as it went down. The more gag-inducing the medicine, the more likely it was to annihilate whatever was bothering you.
"Um, ok, sure," I said.
"That'll be $2.99 extra."
And just like that, it was oh hell no time. First of all, I was annoyed that some executive thought it cool to make flavoring an option for children's medicine rather than keep it standard and making life easier for parents all over the world. Second, the economist in me was annoyed that Walgreen's expected me to believe that adding a spritz of flavoring could possibly cost almost $3 extra for a generic medicine that didn't cost that much to begin with. Finally, I was incensed that this whole idea was a play on a vulnerable parent's susceptibility at a time when sick children were likely to be waiting at home.
I decided to decline the offer for a tastier antibiotic, and mentally made a note to never become a product differentiation vampire as a marketer myself.
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