Calling Their Bluffs

Airbag is located under the dashboard of my car. Auto dealership seen in background.

    A nationwide recall notice arrived in the mail. My car had a safety problem.
    I telephoned a dealership. The conversation went something like this:
    “Hello,” I said.
    “Hi, can I help you,” a woman said.
    “I’m calling to set up a service appointment. I got a recall notice for the passenger side airbag.”
    “Sure, we can take care of that. Let me put together a customer profile.”
    “Does that mean I have to give out my personal information.”
    “Yes sir.”
    “I’d rather keep that information private.”
    “May I ask why?”
    “I don’t want to be placed on another marketing list. I bought my car from the previous owner of your dealership. Afterwards, the dealer robo-called me on the telephone. The calls went on for months.”
    “Sorry to hear that, but we need your contact information.”
    “I’ll give you the vin (Vehicle identification number).”
    “We also need your contact information.”
    “I really don’t want to give it out.”
    “Then we’ll be unable to repair your airbag.”
    “So be it. I hope nothing bad happens.”
    The woman paused to think. My last remark was loaded with innuendo. It implied that if the airbag--the defective airbag--discharged prematurely and injured a passenger, the dealership would be in trouble.
    “Okay, we’ll fix the airbag,” she said.
    All to often, cashiers ask for my personal information when I buy products with cash. I don’t comply with their requests. Sometimes cashiers persist. They’ll state that my contact information is necessary for sales to go through.
    I call their bluffs. I refuse to provide them with the information. At that point, cashiers back off. They accept my dollars and that’s the end of it.
    All to often, cashiers aren’t just cashiers, they’re also data miners.