By ARTHUR VIDRO
On Consumerism
One way to weed out bogus advertisements and mail: adopt an alias.
Last week the mailman delivered a letter to our house, but the name on the envelope wasn’t mine. Instead it was an alias I adopted for a certain magazine subscription. If anyone other than the publisher sends mail to that fictitious entity, then it’s clearly junk mail.
Last week’s letter purported to be from the “2023 Vehicle Notification Department” of a company called Endurance, located in Northbrook, Illinois.
I knew it was junk mail even before I opened it.
First, it was using presorted standard mail rates, not first-class rates.
Second, the envelope proclaimed: “Important — Open Immediately.” That’s always a giveaway. Anything with the audacity to say “open immediately” should be discarded immediately.
The letter talked about an upcoming price increase to the company’s Extended Vehicle Service Plans and encouraged the recipient to phone a given number to lock in the lower (but expiring) rate.
It ended, in bold print, with: “P.S.: Depending on your make and mileage, prices will rise between $150 and $500 per year.”
Major problems with this solicitation:
I do not have a warranty in effect on my car. It expired years ago.
I never had a contract with the company in question. Any warranties in the past were from the carmakers themselves.
And then, of course, it was addressed to a person who doesn’t exist. To a person who doesn’t own a vehicle. Who has never owned a vehicle. Who has never had a warranty. Who has never had a driver’s license.
To get the low-down on this strange solicitation, I investigated.
Endurance and its address are real. Phoning the given number does allow one to reach Endurance, though not the person who purportedly signed the letter.
I spoke to a woman who identified herself as “Ann Book, a member of the Endurance team.”
(I miss the days when workers identified themselves as employees, instead of team members.)
I told her my real name, my having a consumerism column at the Eagle Times, and told her the recipient of the letter had never heard of them, did not know he had an existing contract with them, and wanted me to find out what this letter was about.
She quickly asked for the make and model of the vehicle. I told her the recipient had no vehicle, not even a driver’s license. She asked if anyone else in the household might have a vehicle. I told her no.
After giving her the customer code on the letter, she confirmed her system was not showing any vehicle in the recipient’s name. “I will mark it Not Qualified,” she said. “No vehicle.”
“And there is no service plan in existence for the letter’s recipient?”
“No service plan,” she said.
“And no change in rates for the letter’s recipient?”
“No change in rates,” she said. She added that Endurance has various sources for its information, but she was unable to see what was the source for the information in question.
“But your sources do sometimes make mistakes?” I asked.
“Yes,” she agreed.
And that was it. No admission that they’re buying subscription or membership information from other companies. But, she proudly added, “we keep all our information confidential.”
How did I first think of using an alias?
Back in the 1990s, I sometimes volunteered to read to the blind. A big part of those assignments was reading them their mail.
One blind person whose surname was Ebert often received mail addressed to E. Bert — which is how she was listed in the phone book. It was her clever way of knowing right away to discard the material. Anyone who really knew her or had business with her would use the correct surname.
So, folks, feel free to adopt an alias. As long as you’re not using it to sign a contract, it’s perfectly legal.
And remember, any mail screaming to be “Important — Open Immediately” should be regarded as “Of Zero Importance — Discard Immediately.”
— Arthur Vidro writes on financial issues for the Eagle Times.
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