Pet Peeve Time!
...and definitely not trivial. This is actually a CMPP: A Civic-Minded Pet Peeve.
Like most Americans in this day and age, I'm aware of the identity-theft issue. I have, in fact, been a victim twice. Both occurrences were in the 1990s, and both were accomplished by very low-tech means: Somebody got their hands on my purse (in the first case) and a box of checks sent to me from the bank (in the second). Back then I wasn't even what you'd call an internet user, so firewalls, phishing and spyware didn't factor in.
They do now, of course. But all the other more old-fashioned techniques (described on the Federal Trade Commission's web page) are also alive and well. "Dumpster diving" leads the list.
"Shred everything" was the advice given by the security manager at my company during a quarterly safety informational.
"Everything?" No. Not everything. Every weekend I fill up a large cardboard carton with all my paper recyclables ... but the warnings have led me to modify this routine somewhat. I now divide the pile into two: The larger pile by far is recyclables, with a smaller pile for shreddables.
What gets shredded? Mostly anything with our names and address on it, any receipts that include our name (credit card numbers are almost always X'd out, thank goodness) and even things like the number of our customer loyalty card at the local grocery store.
In some cases the separation process is pretty easy. You get a bill from somebody; you recycle the window envelope, the return envelope (if it isn't being used -- most of my bills get paid electronically) and the inevitable advertising inserts. The bill itself usually gets filed for a few years, but if, let's say, it's a duplicate bill or some other communication about my account that I don't need, then that gets shredded. Magazines and catalogs sometimes come with a convenient over-wrap containing the address; I shred that and it keeps the magazine intact. With catalogs, though, I have to remember to tear out the order form stapled in the center, because, for my convenience, supposedly (actually for THEIR convenience), they have pre-printed my name, address, phone number and account number. So that gets shredded, and then the rest of it gets recycled.
Not a big deal, except for some cases, and here's where my pet peeve comes in.
You would think that advertisers would understand the issue of ID theft and the efforts that some people go to to prevent it. Apparently not, though, based on the types of mailings I've been receiving the last few months.
Publishers Clearing House, as well as a number of higher-visibility charities that include sweepstakes drawings as an inducement to raise funds, have taken to printing these brochures that feature my name and address several times in bold letters on nearly every page of their fat mailings.
"MILI MOD at 875 N. KELLY STREET, WILL YOU BE OUR NEXT WINNER?" "FIFTY GAZILLION DOLLARS CAN BE YOURS, MILI MOD, when the Prize Patrol visits YOU, MILI MOD, at 875 N. KELLY STREET, but only if YOU, MILI MOD, send in your entry! We will call you at 555-2064 if you, MILI MOD, are our winner -- please verify that 555-2064 is still your home phone number!"
And then each separate page has my name and address at the top in bold type, just in case I forget this information. So it takes me twice as long to separate this type of mailing for recycling as anything else.
It used to be that the letter from the charity would start with "Dear Friend of Our Lady of the Bleeding Heart" with my name and address only appearing on the tear-off card that was supposed to accompany my donation. But no, now OLBH has gotten sophisticated, and they, too, insert my name every other paragraph in the 6-page testimonial letter about how horrible things are out there in the world and how only MY DONATION will alleviate this. I suspect that this new gambit forces me to skim through the entire letter, looking for appearances of my name, so that by a subconscious process, I will end up reading this letter and being moved to send them money.
It isn't working. I have no money. Give it up, guys. Save the postage and printing costs.
My shredder is light-duty. I'd really prefer not to burn out the motor, shredding five times more paper than necessary.
If any direct-mail marketers are reading this, please take note. MILI MOD at 875 N. Kelly St. does not like you.
Like most Americans in this day and age, I'm aware of the identity-theft issue. I have, in fact, been a victim twice. Both occurrences were in the 1990s, and both were accomplished by very low-tech means: Somebody got their hands on my purse (in the first case) and a box of checks sent to me from the bank (in the second). Back then I wasn't even what you'd call an internet user, so firewalls, phishing and spyware didn't factor in.
They do now, of course. But all the other more old-fashioned techniques (described on the Federal Trade Commission's web page) are also alive and well. "Dumpster diving" leads the list.
"Shred everything" was the advice given by the security manager at my company during a quarterly safety informational.
"Everything?" No. Not everything. Every weekend I fill up a large cardboard carton with all my paper recyclables ... but the warnings have led me to modify this routine somewhat. I now divide the pile into two: The larger pile by far is recyclables, with a smaller pile for shreddables.
What gets shredded? Mostly anything with our names and address on it, any receipts that include our name (credit card numbers are almost always X'd out, thank goodness) and even things like the number of our customer loyalty card at the local grocery store.
In some cases the separation process is pretty easy. You get a bill from somebody; you recycle the window envelope, the return envelope (if it isn't being used -- most of my bills get paid electronically) and the inevitable advertising inserts. The bill itself usually gets filed for a few years, but if, let's say, it's a duplicate bill or some other communication about my account that I don't need, then that gets shredded. Magazines and catalogs sometimes come with a convenient over-wrap containing the address; I shred that and it keeps the magazine intact. With catalogs, though, I have to remember to tear out the order form stapled in the center, because, for my convenience, supposedly (actually for THEIR convenience), they have pre-printed my name, address, phone number and account number. So that gets shredded, and then the rest of it gets recycled.
Not a big deal, except for some cases, and here's where my pet peeve comes in.
You would think that advertisers would understand the issue of ID theft and the efforts that some people go to to prevent it. Apparently not, though, based on the types of mailings I've been receiving the last few months.
Publishers Clearing House, as well as a number of higher-visibility charities that include sweepstakes drawings as an inducement to raise funds, have taken to printing these brochures that feature my name and address several times in bold letters on nearly every page of their fat mailings.
"MILI MOD at 875 N. KELLY STREET, WILL YOU BE OUR NEXT WINNER?" "FIFTY GAZILLION DOLLARS CAN BE YOURS, MILI MOD, when the Prize Patrol visits YOU, MILI MOD, at 875 N. KELLY STREET, but only if YOU, MILI MOD, send in your entry! We will call you at 555-2064 if you, MILI MOD, are our winner -- please verify that 555-2064 is still your home phone number!"
And then each separate page has my name and address at the top in bold type, just in case I forget this information. So it takes me twice as long to separate this type of mailing for recycling as anything else.
It used to be that the letter from the charity would start with "Dear Friend of Our Lady of the Bleeding Heart" with my name and address only appearing on the tear-off card that was supposed to accompany my donation. But no, now OLBH has gotten sophisticated, and they, too, insert my name every other paragraph in the 6-page testimonial letter about how horrible things are out there in the world and how only MY DONATION will alleviate this. I suspect that this new gambit forces me to skim through the entire letter, looking for appearances of my name, so that by a subconscious process, I will end up reading this letter and being moved to send them money.
It isn't working. I have no money. Give it up, guys. Save the postage and printing costs.
My shredder is light-duty. I'd really prefer not to burn out the motor, shredding five times more paper than necessary.
If any direct-mail marketers are reading this, please take note. MILI MOD at 875 N. Kelly St. does not like you.