Someone Call the Fellowship! Quick!

I have fought the dreaded beast of conscience to no avail. I must confess my sins. It is I who drew the eye of Corporate America who desires the Ring of….wait, no, that was a different eye….I get my life and Orlando Bloom's movies confused sometimes (since they both occupy approximately equal amounts of memory in my brain).

Like the other innocent hobbits (by this I mean extremely short and burly people) fishing on a stream, I also heeded the shiny bauble that would bring about my own condemnation. Too late were my eyes opened to the dreadful world my precious had created for me.

By too late, I mean tonight. I was seated on my couch, watching the shows selected for me by TiVo, reading e-mails announcing exciting new products I can’t wait to purchase, and surrounded by the conquests of capitalism – multimedia system, knock-off designer furniture from Target, and the LA Times. Then, it happened. I jumped over to ChezMiscarriage for a little distraction and read the following words:

So I've been feeling increasingly cranky about corporations lately. Forget financial scandals, they're so boring compared to mind-reading. Mind-reading is the new corporate evil.

Suddenly, the voice in my head said, “She wants it, she wants our precious.” Whoops, no, movie again. The voice in my head said, “She doesn’t like personalization!” And then it hit me. I had done this. In a moment of innocence, I had opened the world up to “mindreading” by Corporate America.

It all happened so innocently during the days of my internship. Since I was of the unlucky few whose parents insisted they grow up at 18, my parents did not fund my college years (much). So, I ran about with the spare cash I could make at a $5/hour job on campus. I bought food so far discounted that it required I sign a letter of consent acknowledging that people had died from food poisoning just walking past the item. So, the offer to take surveys for $10 each was more than I could ignore. The surveyor asked me innocent questions about products. Nothing serious – just what I liked in a deodorant, bra, and movie trailer. That’s when I caught sight of the glint of the bauble.

“Many companies want to know about their customers likes and dislikes. Would you be willing to participate in a panel to try a new program that tailors the offers you receive with your personal likes and dislikes? The survey pays $50.”

Now, please understand, $50 was an entire week’s salary for me and a whole month’s grocery budget. That much money might have tempted me to sell my soul, but the devil kept telling me he could get 3 of me for half that price at the swap meet.

So, I fell. I answered the 30 page questionnaire wherein the “companies” learned about all of my preferences from bed sheets to chicken breast. In stage 2, I rated what I would pay for each of these items if they came with a special feature. By the time I had earned my $50, the survey swam around my mind like a demented Dr. Seuss story:

What would make you pay some more?
Would you pay clear up to four?
I would not pay it don’t you see?
Well, maybe if with 1 for free…

A coupon or a special something?
Would that make you pay the bling?
Maybe, maybe let me think!
Perhaps if featured in hot pink!

The Eye of Corporate America drew near me as I accepted a packet of coupons, special offers, and the check, along with one final survey question, “Do you think personalization is a good thing?” My answer, along with the eager response of thousands of over-teched but underfunded college students, brought evil screaming into full control of the world of Man.

So, I am the one to blame, my friends. When those coupons print out at the supermarket for your favorite brand of soy milk, you can curse my moment of weakness; when TiVo reveals your love of semi-pornographic Anime to your mother, send me hate mail; and when your e-mail becomes full of offers for cheap Viagra….well, you asked for that one.

While I’m confessing, I should also mention that I have no taste in music. My personalized playlist at LaunchCast just asked me if I want to add Planet Pop to my favorite CDs – and I accepted. Just remember that I’m the one who takes the surveys that determine what America wants. Scary, huh?