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Time For A Drive-Thru
August 25, 2015
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Looking inside a woman's wallet gives you a glimpse of where she's been, places she frequents, and how much cash she carries around. A monthly cleanout shows everything from register receipts, to phone numbers scribbled on scratch paper, to outdated coupons. Most of this stuff belongs in the trash (excuse me, recycle bin) with the exception of the receipts. These days, whenever you buy something, merchants use their receipts as a map to their website, promising a percentage off the next purchase price if you go online and fill out a customer survey: 20% off at Target, The Gap, or Old Navy could make this worth it, provided you're planning a return visit in the allotted time for which the deal is good. Some offer entry into a large cash drawing for filling out the survey in the next 10 days. Many times these offers overflow inside my wallet and, regardless of my desire, they more than likely end up getting thrown away—I mean, recycled. One time I responded to a Panera survey with, "Yes, I did really like the product but, no, they never seem to get my order right." I noted that the soup is usually cold and my chai latte was made with rotten orange juice. Should I be surprised I never heard back from them? I never won the prize, received a discount, or was offered a refund, but they sure did get my email address. The clutter flood tends to crest right about now, as we're on the cusp of back to school—although we're not quite there yet. I'm noticing more jumpy people lately, too. I was in line waiting to order a coffee and the woman in front of me turned and yelled, "I want a day off, don't you?" Actually, I just wanted the line to start moving so I could get some caffeine. Meanwhile, her 20-month-old son is clamoring to get a donut. I know his age because for the first 10 minutes of my wait she was talking very loudly on her cell to a girlfriend, telling about how he sleeps till 9AM every morning, forcing her to take her daughter to day camp he sleeps. She is so not happy with her daughter's camp counselor who's giving her charges camping tests and teaching them how to count money. She feels the work stresses her daughter out, therefore stresses her out. "Isn't summer camp supposed to be fun?" she asks. My idea of fun at that point was a quicker-moving coffee line.
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