Privacy? Who needs it. Sign me up for free stuff.
I just sold my soul for a chance at a new driver.
Well, maybe not my soul, exactly, but my address, phone number, and email. If they?d asked for my social security number and mother?s maiden name I probably would?ve handed them over too.
It began when I got an email from a reputable golf agency querying whether I?d like to participate in a golf survey, and enter a DRAWING for some new EQUIPMENT.
Like Pavlov?s dog, I began salivating before I even started filling out the first question: How do TaylorMade products perform against other golf equipment? I could just picture it, a new 11-degree, giant-headed driver clobbering my ProV1x?s to a land far, far away.
It was a lengthy survey, and it was abundantly clear by the time I reached page 5 (out of 9) that it wasn?t from some neutral party. It was clearly a shill for TaylorMade, going on and on about TaylorMade irons, TaylorMade woods, blah blah blah until I was doing the equivalent of Christmas Tree?ing the bubbles.
Now 30 minutes of my life are gone and I can?t get them back. So why did I do it? Why did I proffer up all that information about myself faster than Cheap Bastard getting in line at the Golden Corral? I feel shame.
Because frankly, I don?t even care about TaylorMade. I?m a Callaway gal. And no amount of advertisement will lead me to switch. Except, apparently, the promise of a new driver.
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