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Wednesday, May 28, 2003

Last time I visited my dentist, I got two surprises.

One was yet another lecture about why I need to see yet another specialist and have yet more barbaric renovation work on the inside of my mouth, not to mention my bank account. I will not elaborate because you may be eating. And, I say, lucky you.

The other was a privacy policy.

This is all the rage now. Everyone has a privacy policy, and they all feel the need to print it up in very, very small type and mail or hand it to you with an earnest entreaty that you read it.

First it was the banks and credit card companies. The best incentive for reading those privacy statements is that buried somewhere in there is usually some kind of "opt-out" opportunity, an 800 number or an address to send something to. I look for those, because chances are excellent that whatever a bank or credit card company wants to do to me, it would be good to opt out of it if at all possible.

Now I'm seeing privacy policies from dentists, pharmacists, car dealers, perhaps even my manicurist. (I can only hope she pledges never to reveal my poor judgment about that pale salmon polish.)

Web sites also have privacy policies, because God forbid your e-mail address should fall into the hands of pornographers, organ enlargers or deposed African aristocrats.

If you actually read any of these policies -- if you have a magnifying glass and a spare half-hour -- you will be unavoidably overwhelmed by a sense of irony. A short summary of a typical privacy policy goes something like this:

XYZ is serious about your privacy and strongly committed to protecting our customers.

What we have on you: We collect information about you every time you visit our office, fill out a form, speak to us on the phone, click on our Web site or mention our name in casual conversation. We know your birthdate, your mother's maiden name, where you live, your cell phone number, your employer, your Social Security number, your blood type, your shoe size and your SAT scores. (Slacker.)

You cannot buy a pack of gum without our knowing about it. We collect information about ("monitor" is such an ugly word) where you shop, where you travel and how much money you have. We know what you were doing in Greensburg in January and why you needed a new shirt.

We have cookies in your computer and a card on your key ring. We know your codes. You can't hide from us.

What we do with all that information: Mostly, we use it to bug you. We phone you, spam you, poll you and sell you out to people even more annoying than we are. This is to improve our service to you. Everything you get from us or our associates will be tailored to you, the enthusiastic connoisseur of sweepstakes, snake oil and scams.

WE NEVER SELL OR SHARE YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION WITH ANYBODY. EXCEPT WHEN:

You ask us to.

You say we can.

You don't say we can't.

We're sure they're trustworthy.

Your mom says we can.

Somebody really wants to know.

We think you're up to something.

It's for your own good.

How to opt out: Fine. Be that way. What are you hiding? Oh, all right. Call 1-800-NOPOINT. That will limit us to sharing all your personal information only with people we actually know and businesses owned by the same parent company. Good thing we have such a big family.

Oh, and by the way: We can change any part of this privacy policy anytime, for any reason or no reason. If you're curious, just ask. It's not as if you have anything else going on in your life, right?

An even shorter summary of a typical privacy policy is this:

Hey, sucker: You have no privacy. Get used to it.

Sometimes I feel as though I'm turning into my dad (I just hope this doesn't extend to going bald and watching TV in my underwear). He never wanted anybody to know anything about us. His co-workers didn't know where we lived. I thought he was paranoid. Now I wonder if he wasn't onto something.

Your boss is reading your e-mail, supermarket chains know exactly what you buy and how often, and you even have a senator who has told America to its face that there is no right to privacy (so much for the Fourth Amendment). If it makes you feel safer or saves a few dollars, why not?

So unzip your bag, recite your Social Security number and wave to the camera. Open wide. If we can't get your DNA, we'll settle for dental records.