Every week, CVS and I have a standoff - they want to see how much merchandise they can foist off on me and I want to see how I can resist. They know we are at war but instead of shooting me, they offer me ExtraBucks. And who doesn't want extra bucks?
Here is what CVS wants me to buy to "Bring The Magic Home."
A Nutcracker figurine
A Northpole Family Storybook
A Magic Mechanical Santa's Checklist
When I look at this list I think "What the heck is wrong with America?"
Those who know me know that I barely tolerate Christmas. I treat Christmas the way I treat other people's dogs. I wouldn't hurt them if we met but I wouldn't invite them over either. But CVS has a dossier and they see a different Consuelo. They have my BUYING HISTORY which is to say they have my soul. Mike Wallace once did a 60 Minutes segment on how you could completely know a stranger by reading the items on his credit card bill: you knew if he liked to eat out, if he gave to charity, if he went to the gym, if he had ongoing dental problems. CVS knows I love almonds, hot pepper flakes, Tom's toothpaste, dried mango chips, those little tiny toothbrushes that go between your teeth, pore strips and the occasional extra strength headache meds. They know I need eye drops and buy super strength Retin-A They know that I snack, get headaches, have decent hygiene and worry about my complexion. They extrapolate and come up with someone who is weak-willed and indulges in magical thinking,
I guess CVS is the Big Brother George Orwell was warning us about in 1984. CVS is the enigmatic dictator of Oceania.
Oh? Too harsh? Think about it. CVS uses the most psyche-invasive kind of marketing. You could say it's also cheap therapy. CVS is to me like what clear lake water was to Narcissus. who fell in love with his own reflection not realizing it was water. Narcissus drowned. That is what CVS wants me to do. Look into their e-mails, see all of my favorite things, reflections of myself, dive in and drown.