Why "Coke Rewards" Is For Suckers

I am absolutely mesmerized by VH1’s Celebrity Rehab and its newer companion program, Sober House. I find both show’s real-life peek at celebrity addicts’ half-hearted attempts at recovery absolutely, well, addicting. 

You can preach all you want from your high horse about the exploitative nature of such a show, but the fact remains the concept is brilliant.  Confine Gary Busey, Jeff Conaway, Steven Adler, Rodney King, Tawny Kitaen, Daniel Baldwin, and a host of other celebrity addicts in a small building for three or four consecutive weeks without the booze and/or drugs they normally use to get by on a daily basis and watch the fireworks.

Both Celebrity Rehab and Sober House guarantee genuine, compelling, theatrics that can’t be found on any episode of Desperate Housewives.  Couple that with celebrity doctor Drew Pinsky’s dubious counseling and you end up with the equivalent of using gasoline to put out a house fire.

So what has this got to do with Coke Rewards, the loyalty program that rewards frequent Coca-Cola drinkers with the promise of lots of free merchandise and services?

Well, for almost a year and a half I was addicted to Coke Rewards.  My addiction was not as devastating as those who are dependent on drugs or alcohol, but it was a powerful addiction just the same.  And just like any other addiction, nothing really good ever came from it.

The Story of a Coke Rewards Addict

My addiction to Coke Rewards started on October 5, 2007 with a ten-point deposit into my account from a 12-pack of Coke Classic.  Since then, it’s been a long, ugly decent into the depths of Hades. 

At first, my need to collect points was orderly and rational.  I would simply buy my 12-packs and dutifully enter the 12-digit codes printed on the inside of the cartons.  I eagerly scanned the Coke Rewards website for items that I desired, and put them on my “wish” list.  But within a couple months, it was apparent that Coke Rewards wasn’t going to provide me with the nirvana I was expecting.

Items on my “wish” list were selling out before I could reach the required point values to get them.  It was becoming painfully apparent that, unless I was willing to settle for some sorry Coke key chains, or an occasional free 20-ounce bottle of Coke, I was never going to be able to get any of the truly big-ticket items that were being offered up.

The first signs of trouble were subtle.

I found myself getting chummy with the guy who fills the Coke machine at work, hoping for handouts that never came.

I started asking friends and co-workers if they would be kind enough to save their bottle caps for me.   At first it was just my close friends, but it eventually spread to anybody I was remotely acquainted with that I saw with a Coke in their hand.

Usually, to deflect suspicion, I would pitifully make up a story that I was saving points for my daughter.  “She needs 2000 points for a giant stuffed Coca-Cola polar bear,” I’d say with a nervous laugh, hoping nobody knew I was selfishly gunning for the iHome Desk Lamp with iPod Dock & Speakers for 3700 points.

After a while, the bottle cap hand-outs from my friends and coworkers became less frequent.   So I started shaking them down in the hallways at work.

Eventually I became paranoid.  “Hey, Bob,”  I’d say, barely able to control myself.  “Where’s my bottle caps?  I know Clarence down in 201 is collecting them too.  You aren’t giving my caps to him, are you?”

Soon, I found myself unable to avoid sneaking a peek at every trash bin and office waste receptacle I passed during the day, hoping to see an empty Coke bottle or, better yet, 12-pack carton that would allow me to feed my relentless addiction.

I recently hit rock bottom when I caught myself early one morning shamelessly scouring office trash cans in search of discarded 20-ounce bottle caps.  It was then that I made a pledge to come clean.

The Coke Rewards Program Is For Suckers

Of course, bottle cap collecting is not as big a problem as heroin- or alcohol-abuse, but it is similar in one important aspect:  Over time, it takes more and more Coke Rewards points to get the same results.

When the Coke Rewards program started in 2006, rewards points were valued at roughly ten cents each.  Today, that same rewards point is worth less than four cents.  For example, I bought a Coke T-shirt in May 2008 for 370 points.  Five months later that very same shirt required 760 points.   I could give you many other examples of this type of points inflation, but why bother?

Points inflation isn’t the only problem.

As I noted earlier, there were too many instances to count where I would put an expensive item on my “wish” list only to see it be removed from the site months later.  This is Coke’s version of Lucy pulling the football from Charlie Brown when he tries to kick it.

In a year and a half, I have accrued a total of 1407 points with 60 more still waiting to be deposited in the form of unopened 12-packs in my garage.  So far I have spent 753 points and all I have to show for it are two insulated Coca-Cola lunch coolers, and a tee-shirt.

I currently have 654 points remaining in my account.  That’s good enough for a foam Coke can cooler, a “vintage” Coke bottle opener, and several $1 discount coupons toward a 12-pack of Coke.  If anybody wants to take advantage of the unused Coke Rewards codes printed on the cartons, they will be in my trash can.  Feel free to take them.  The first taste is always free.

If you liked this article, please be sure to subscribe to my RSS feed.