A few days ago I had a thought that comes into my noggin
every once in a while (and more frequently now that I’m approaching
retirement): Some day before I shuffle off this mortal coil, I’d like to own a
Mercedes Benz – used, of course. I did not commit this thought to writing in
any way, but the very next time I sat down at this keyboard, the good folks at
Google provided a banner ad atop my screen: “Pre-owned Mercedes…” They’re
reading my mind! I thought. My friend Mike came to a different conclusion: By reading
my keystrokes for the last few years (with a soulless keystroke reader), “they”
know that I’m a sixty-five year old boomer male approaching retirement who
certainly doesn’t make enough to buy a new Mercedes, that my reading and
correspondence skew my interests ever so slightly toward a German rather than a
Japanese luxury-mobile, and that a demographically placed ad for a pre-owned
Mercedes might present just the “it’s now or never” opportunity that I might
act on. Pathetic.
As a matter of principle, I didn’t click on the ad (the
principle being a protest against our society’s easy acquiescence in the giving
up of our privacy), but I have to confess a grudging admiration for the
technology. I do not, however, admire the philosophy of the Mark Zuckerbergs of
the world, who disingenuously claim that these targeted ads are a favor they
are providing for the consumer. My advertising friend tells me to get used to
it and get over it – that it’s just an extension of a 1950s Madison Avenue ad
for Crest toothpaste. But it seems that
the other privacy shoe is yet to drop – that the Zuckerbergian "privacy-is-so-twentieth-century" approach will, too late, be seen to be a favor only for the tyrannical and the
amoral, and all of us who carelessly click that we “like” Kraft Mayonnaise will
increasingly resemble hapless characters out of 1984 or Brave New World.
What’s both interesting and scary is that the targeted ad
technology seems to be getting sharper and sharper. But sometimes they
humorously miss the mark. A while back I wrote a piece on marriage.
Almost immediately I received a Google Mail sidebar ad offering me “Russian
Brides--See Pics.” As a matter of principle, I
didn’t click on the ad, the principle being that Caryl was coming into the room
and I wasn’t sure what these Russian Brides would look like!
