Lenawee Smiles: Mass marketers will find us – dead or alive
Several demons out there persist in sending advertising to names of people who do not live at this address.
When such things show up in the mailbox, they get a quick glance. We do not need lawn seeders, a do-it-yourself chicken house, new eaves troughs, patio furniture, steak from cattle grown in another state, goat feed, roof caps, flags for all the universities in the country or men’s underwear.
It is one thing to get advertising for non-existing residents, but it is another thing to get advertising for deceased family members. Yes.
A certain utility company that supplied power to my former residence recently sent a piece of first-class mail to my late husband. He drew his last breath 12 years ago. How did they manage to send him mail to my new address in Adrian? My daughter bluntly wrote on the envelope “HE’S DEAD” and put it back in the mailbox to return it.
My secondary health insurance continues to send him a membership card even though I’ve written them numerous times asking them remove his name from their list. Yes, he gets junk mail every so often from this company. They want him to buy their car insurance.
How do they manage this?
I have primed the pump: Here comes the water. I’ve received three emails this week from a man who is running for United States senate. He wants to be part of that austere group in Washington who get caught on camera, now and then, snoozing. The emails are addressed to me. However, they start, “Dale.“ Dale was my father-in-law who died 27 years ago.
How could this man’s staff’s email list rental possibly connect Dale with my address?
I have sent back terse messages telling this wannabe that writing to Dale is futile: he is under ground and, as far as I know, has no communication system with him.
If this gentleman’s campaign folks cannot send emails to the living, how is he going to address problems that plague the living? I am concerned that he may not know how to work for those above the green.
When my father-in-law died, an organization to which he donated money quite regularly sent an impressive wreath to the funeral home. When I saw it, I was taken aback. I thought perhaps my father-in-law had been a member of royalty in some small, Asian country to earn this massive floral tribute.
Years after his death, he received a letter from this group requesting a donation of $100.
I wrote back to them reminding them of the beauty of the wreath they had sent when he died 20 years prior to the arrival of this request for funds. He never received mail from this outfit again.
Don’t you wonder how all this cross-pollination of mailing lists works?
My cousin was complaining last week about the number of catalogs she gets.
“Did you order something from a catalog?”
“Yes, I ordered a blouse.”
“Well, there you go — now your name is one of 278,000,000 Americans on a massive list who buy things from catalogs. You will probably get six or seven more catalogs selling similar items.”
“I’ve already gotten two. Are you telling me I’ll get more?”
“Certainly. It’s like someone reeling in a fish. If he gets one fish, chances are there is a nest of squirrels in that oak tree.”
“There is something wrong with what you just said, I think.”
“No doubt. I think a lot of catalogs are owned by the same outfit so if you order from one of them, your name goes on their mailing list. If you ordered from Catalog A, you will get Catalogs B and C."
“Have you ordered from more of them? What? I can’t hear you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Stop ordering from them. Eventually, they’ll stop sending them.”
It’s easy for me to tell her to stop buying from those catalogs. Very easy. I don’t buy from them … I buy their products online.
I am blitzed daily with emails assuring me that I should purchase the 20%, 40%, 53% off items and so on. I have learned to wait — usually within three days, I will get an email telling me that for that day only, I can purchase items for 65% off the sale price. I salivate over this offer. I am a sale junky.
These emails come only to me — not to Dale. He never showed much of an interest in velvet leggings, sterling silver rings or cashmere sweaters.
Susan Keezer lives in Adrian. Send your good news to her at lenaweesmiles@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Susan Keezer: Mass marketers will find us – dead or alive
