MICKI BARE Advertisement

Technology, or Big Brother as some refer to it, can make you feel as if there is no privacy left in the world. An Internet connection, a search engine and a few minutes can provide anyone with tons of information on anyone else. Employers can read all your e-mail and review every Internet page you've ever visited. Lawyers can subpoena your laptop and enter tons of information about you into evidence -- provided you are accused of a wrongdoing.

What worries me most is the ability of today's marketing "techies" (not to be confused with baby boomer "trekkies") to view the innards of my computer when I am connected to the Internet, which is most of the time, thanks to the industry's bundle-and-save promotions.

Add virtual tons of information floating out in cyberspace that is gathered when I scan my discount card at the grocery store, use department store credit cards or try to save a few pennies by "registering" for the privilege of printing coupons off the Web. High-tech profilers have more than enough information to put together a detailed description of Micki Bare.

Companies now use specially designed software to determine our attributes and send us spam and snail junk mail on products we are likely to purchase. And for a while, I'm sure this tactic worked well. I have received coupons for chocolate-covered biscotti and discount offers on Hershey products in the past.

But lately I've noticed things have changed. Maybe the marketing software is outdated. Maybe there is too much information floating around, making the piecing together of personal consumer profiles next to impossible.

Big Brother seems to think that I am losing my hair. I receive more than my share of offers for products that combat balding. To that end, I have to assume that cybermarketing has determined that I am a middle-aged man fighting a receding hairline. Much of the spam I receive and offers I pull out of the mailbox on the curb are addressed to Mr. Micki Bare.

Clearly, one bug in the system appears to be the omission of the rule stating that names ending in the letter "y" are boy names and names ending in "i" are girl names. For example, my cousin's daughter Toni and my friend Toni are girls. My brother Tony, my cousin Tony, and my cousin's son Tony are boys. My cousin Teri is a girl. My friend Terry is a boy. Therefore, it stands to reason that I'm a female, not a bald male.

Big Brother is also under the delusion that I am in imminent need of large sums of money. Not only do I need the money, but I am gullible enough to believe I have already made it through the first-round drawing and have an excellent chance of winning, or that I was personally selected, due to my wonderful credit and personal integrity, to help a rich Nigerian widow collect her inheritance.

Based on the annoying junk that has been flowing through my inbox and into my virtual recycle bin in the last few weeks, it appears I am in need of a good quality, inexpensive watch that would be perfect for me, as well as my friends and relatives for whom I will soon be Christmas shopping.

Lately, when I download e-mail, it's like the virtual equivalent of encountering street salesmen as a child. They walked the streets of New York City in their full-length trench coats, flashing tourists with an assortment of "top-quality, brand-name" watches at discount prices. Back then, my granny taught me to walk right by without making eye contact. Today, I hit delete without opening, reading or giving the "great opportunity" a second thought. Granny would be proud.

If the cybermarketing reports were in the neighborhood of being accurate, I would still be receiving spam offers discounting chocolate and biscotti. I would receive information on hair dye, not hair-growth serums. I would be tempted by yoga CDs and accessories instead of male enhancement pills. And instead of get rich quick deals, I'd see propaganda on making the money I do have last a lifetime through smart investing.

Then again, it is comforting to know that Big Brother knows as much about me as my friend's cousin's brother's son Tony.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.