I’ve noticed a rather disturbing change in my junk mail as I grow older.
It started when I turned 50 and AARP sought me out to join them with enticing offers of senior discounts on Depends. Then at 60 among my birthday greetings I found a solicitation from The Neptune Society for cremation services. That was kind of a downer. I’m almost afraid to peer into the future lest my 70th bring an invitation from what I can only imagine will be a company aptly named “Check-Out Time,” offering euthanasia services – cash only, no credit cards accepted.
I have to admit that solicitations for long-term care insurance sent by the same companies offering me short-term life insurance confuse me, and it’s more than a little creepy to find myself just automatically appearing on these types of mailing lists. I’m only buoyed by the fact that Victoria’s Secret still considers me young and nubile enough to send me their catalogs and I’ve been known to buy several unneeded black lace garter belts just to stay in their good graces.
I look forward to election times when my mail is full of expressions of desire from those vying for my affection. Clearly, I am worth more to them alive than dead and that, in itself, is worth sending them a few bucks.
I realize that there is no longer any such thing as “personal” information and that we’re precision-targeted by corporations from cradle to grave. Recently, however, I decided to fight back and took some pleasure in ordering subscriptions to Seventeen and TeenVogue magazines thinking I’d just mess with them a bit. In response, I received literature on the early-warning signs of dementia along with advice that I consult my doctor about the enclosed recommended drugs for the treatment of such.
This may be a battle I can’t win.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
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5 comments:
While not junk mail to some, we are currently undergoing a resurgence of the "Yellow backed phone book" plague. I never see them being dropped off on my porch or in my yard or crammed into my mailbox unceremoniously. Yet their numbers increase daily. And I wonder: what information does 1 company have that the others do not? A cursory look reveals, uh, nothing. Nada. No shitsky. I dispatch them into my recycle bin........and look information up on the 'net. Call me lazy, but looking up a number under a name that they've probably misspelled...what a waste of my time. And I so agree about junk mail, mainly because of all the bastardizations of my name. How does it find me? The best ones come to Mr. Art O. Mobilia...which is, infact, my Company name: Art-o-Mobilia. If it weren't so entertaining......nah, it IS just plain annoying.
I have long been looking forward to getting older and wiser. I am loking forward to that senior discount at Denny's. I get death mail too! When you have kids it is awful. I get shit like "Protect your childs future after your gone for only $1.95 a day" She is only two and I have to start planning for my death! WTF? If you think that can't get any worse, guess which company it is from? GERBER! They are selling baby food and mommy death insurance! Sick huh?
Mom mail is the worst.
Take that shit with a grain of salt. I get it too:) You are only as old as you feel! And I have a feeling you are about 25 in spirit:)
Love Tawnia
I'm mostly confused by the telemarketing calls I get. Somehow, no matter how self-righteously indignant I am to the NRA, the GOP, and Senator Cornyn's wife, I remain on their list. I mean seriously, why do these guys even bother calling someone who lives in a zip code that is 99% NeoCon? I've suggested their efforts might be needed down in the city that has a more diverse and enlightened population, but the young, white, nimrods that I suggest this to always seem baffled. Eh, what can you expect? Conservatives.
I'm horrified that you got a brochure for cremation services. When my dad turned, well, hm, 55 (I cannot remember) he started getting all sorts of offers for nursing homes and power wheel chairs. I took great pleasure in ribbing him about it as sort of payback for the years he refused to hook up the printer so that I could print my papers.
I think the only one that he was horrified by was the signed picture of George W. Bush. Which. I mean. My parents did NOT vote for him.
I just stumbled onto your blog this morning and found myself laughing out loud when I read this post. I get junk mail from Pottery Barn and retirement communities... and I'm 29. I think Big Brother got his wires crossed. :)
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