TV Eye

I'm an easygoing person. Yet, every once in a while, enough irritating things occur all at once to turn me into a crotchety, finger-wagging person talking back at the TV. The first thing that set me off was the coverage of Tiger Woods and his mea culpa on TV last week. Why am I supposed to care about Tiger and his wood?

Then there's that reality series Undercover Boss (CBS). In general, I'm no fan of reality series, but I try to give everything at least one look. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I know I wasn't expecting an hourlong commercial for 7-Eleven. Prior episodes featured Waste Management (portable toilets and their maintenance) and Hooters. Future episodes include trips to White Castle and Churchill Downs. The show predominantly features service industries, presumably paying minimum wage with limited benefits.

The premise of Undercover Boss is this: A corporate boss works alongside workers far lower on the food chain who have no idea he's the big boss. He gets to see if his company is really as shipshape as he believes it is, while communing with the little people. In the episode I saw, 7-Eleven CEO and President Joe DePinto (undercover as "Danny") learned how to make coffee under the tutelage of a sassy woman during the morning rush. In the process, viewers learn that 7-Eleven makes gallons of delicious coffee a day. Later, we saw DePinto work in the 7-Eleven bakery making bear claws with an amiable and seasoned baker, then DePinto put in some hours at a store where he threw away baked goods in spite of corporate policy to give unsold food to charitable organizations feeding the poor. Danny mopped floors, washed windows, and ate lunch with his co-workers. Through Danny, we learn that the sassy woman is on dialysis; the baker served in the military and is an aspiring artist; the other two workers are a college student from India and a family man from Kazakhstan, each happy to have work even if it's not quite their American dream. There's lots of talk about the virtue of hard work and how, in spite of the imperfections DePinto witnesses, one thing is clear: When you go to a 7-Eleven, it's all about the customer. And look at all these wonderful, salt-of-the-earth folk, ready to serve you!

At the big reveal, DePinto rewards each of his unsuspecting underlings: a promotion for the student; the formation of a foundation named for the ailing, sassy woman; an offer of freelance work in the 7-Eleven art department for the baker/artist; and a franchise for the Kazakhstanian. A promotion? "I hope that comes with a raise," I growled at the TV. A foundation named for the ailing woman? "How about some health insurance," I shouted. Freelance work? Why not art supplies or what I was really hoping for, an educational program so the artist could take formal classes? The franchise was presumably the big prize. (The woman dying of kidney disease might argue that her life is of higher value, but why split hairs?) The always-smiling worker from Kazakhstan accepted his new franchise gracefully, uttering, "Only in America, only in America." It was very sweet, I had to admit, but the crotchety part of me couldn't help but be reminded that as a franchise owner, he now has the right to sell coffee on behalf of 7-Eleven. Nothing really belongs to him.

Why does the Tiger Woods press conference followed by Undercover Boss make me so grumpy? Because I'm tired of having one thing pose as something else to entice me to purchase something. Tiger's personal life is only relevant when it affects his public persona's ability to sell shoes or promote golf – and don't get me started on how much I hate golf. Undercover Boss has gone a step further than the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show by making it a series of prime-time commercials, instead of one "special." Puh-leese! Cut the crap. Just tell me what you want me to buy. I might not be in the market, but I won't respond to the same, tired floor show, especially when those good old-fashioned American values are looking mighty tattered these days.

So there. Now get off my lawn.

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Follow TV Eye on Twitter: @ChronicleTVEye. E-mail Belinda Acosta at [email protected].