Stalked by 'Big Data'

The gnomes from Big Data are stalking me.
At least it feels that way.
A few weeks back, I quietly passed what I thought was a personal milestone.
But apparently all the world knew, thanks to Big Data.
The second full week of May, the mailbox started to fill up.
Mailing after mailing urged me to take a look at my options for Medicare supplement insurance. All of them stressed a sense of urgency. All of them implied that — without the right salesman at my elbow — it was nearly impossible for a mere mortal like me to figure out what course of action to take.
“What’s up with these?” I muttered as I brought the mail in.
And then it hit me: Six months from that date, I would turn 65 and be eligible for Medicare.
Setting aside the fact that I don’t feel as if I’m approaching 65 and the fact that my wife regularly assures me — with all due sincerity — that I don’t look as if I’m approaching 65, what bothered me most was how the heck Big Data had gotten hold of that information.
The answer, of course, is that I probably gave it to them.
I registered a weed eater or a rechargeable drill for a warranty and while filling out the card not only told Big Data my age but where I like to shop, what magazines I read, and how I heard about the product.
If that’s not enough, Big Data has plenty of information on us from Internet sites like Amazon and Netflix. Those folks can tell you what kinds of books and music we like and what sort of movies we watch.
(But they have to be more than a little confused. So many of the things we’ve ordered have been gifts for very different people with very different tastes, it’s a wonder Amazon can make a recommendation at all.)
And then there’s the data collected whenever I get gasoline for the car or pick up something at the pharmacy.
None of this should come as a surprise.
But, still, it’s disconcerting when an event like a birthday six months from now triggers a marketing assault.
The junk mail was just the start of it.
Phone calls followed.
A salesman stopped by while my wife was working in the garden, full of helpful suggestions on how to provide for her aging husband’s medical expenses.
Last week, there was an invitation to a “Medicare Simplification Seminar,” also known as a sales pitch for insurance, from some guy in Ohio who will be talking to himself in Muncie.
You get the picture.
Growing older is, of course, no picnic. And the options surrounding Medicare can be complicated.
But it’s hard to believe that facing those options would be easier with a couple of dozen “advisers” yakking at me at the same time.
So, Big Data, take note: I’ve already spoken with a local insurance agent I know and trust. We’re going to nail things down sometime between now and November.
And when we do, Big Data, I’m sure your computers will know what my decision was.

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