I received today a personal letter, addressed to me in cursive writing. It looks like an invitation to a wedding. But I knew it likely was not that because of the stamp.
What the letter was, was a "personal invitation" to a "special event." The event was being hosted by a young woman named Gabriella Indeglia whose title according to the smart looking invitation is "Hearing Professional." I am invited to have someone look inside my ears using a Video Otoscope. This way I can be introduced to a "fascinating tool" that will help Fraulein Indeglia assess the cause of my "hearing difficulties." And then sell me a device.
For the record, I have no hearing difficulties. You sneeze in Kansas I am at the ready with a handkerchief. I can hear the chatter at the ball park nearby and the little league ball park farther away without difficulty. And also, should Ms. Indeglia have a versatile background in the therapeutic professions, I could inform her that with spectacles I can see distances just fine. For reading, I need no glasses at all. My short term memory is from hunger, but long term memory is very good--so if Ms. Indeglia wants to peddle an elixir to cure memory, she needs to find another client.
What Beltone Hearing Aid Centers (the employer apparently of Dr. Indeglia) is betting on is my years. In Spanish we learned to say, Cuantos años tienes usted?* How old are you? Beltone does not need to ask. Beltone somehow knows how old I am, and figures they have a shot that I am losing my hearing. Other folks send me letters because they figure I cannot see. And other folks send me brochures thinking I am looking for assisted living. And other folks figure I have low testosterone, And other folks think I could use a colonoscopy. And other folks figure I may need a nurse to help me do this and that. And other folks think it would be useful if I could attach an elevator to the handrail that goes upstairs.
I get it. I am getting older. But still, don't you think this type of peddling is a bit like meddling and is insensitive. I'll let you know if I can't see or hear or need a nurse. I'll tell you what, I will send all you meretricious no-goodniks some letters. I will invite you to
- lessons on sensitivity
- maturity training
- lectures on ethics and values
- workshops on how to deal with the end of your life when you have lost all your friends because you sold your soul.
Stuff like that.
No more personal invitations please. I'll get in touch when I need you.
*(I probably butchered the spelling with Cuantos años tienes usted? But I know I got the tilde over the n in años right. I know this because I am familiar with the horrible error that Dupont made when peddling their paint in Spanish speaking countries. They wanted to write "Dupont for years", meaning Dupont paint will last for years. The word for years in Spanish is años, but make sure that tilde is over the n. If not and you advertise your product as Dupont did writing: "Dupont for anos" instead of "Dupont for años" you are not telling all that Dupont is good for years, but Dupont is good for anuses. In other words, if you are an ass this stuff is for you. Remember the Maine? No. Remember the tilde).
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