...to be inundated with catalogs.
I generally get about five or six catalogs per month from stores I actually patronize. Whenever I get a catalog I don't want, I immediately call their 800 number and ask them to stop it. But the holidays brings 'em all back out again in unwieldy masses.
Today is Halloween. A record NINE holiday catalogs are in my mailbox:
Wisteria (home decor/furnishings)
King of Prussia (mall)
L.L. Bean Kids
Plow and Hearth (home and garden decor/furnishings)
One Step Ahead (kids to 3yo)
Leaps and Bounds (3yo on up)
Maryland Square (shoes)
Company Kids (home decor/furnishings)
A Southern Season (gourmet foods and gifts)
Now, if you are someone like my mother-in-law, nine probably represents a slow day in your mail-order life. In the space of about six months, she could bale enough of her junk-mail to erect a skyscraper in her backyard. But knowing her, she wouldn't build it herself at all, she would simply order herself one. With cats painted on it. Personalized with her name and a saying about grandchildren. And I'm sure a music box would be stashed inside a secret porcelain door on the 12th floor. But enough about someone else, this blog is about ME.
I could call these catalogs' numbers and say get me off the lists. If I subsequently need to make a purchase (doubtful), I can easily find their websites. Here's what they'll say when I call, though: "We have removed your name from our database, Ms. Scrooge, but you may still receive catalogs for another six to eight weeks, since we print and distribute them in advance."
How convenient for them to keep them coming through the buyingist time of the year.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
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2 comments:
My mother wouldn't bale hers. She'd just leave the stacks around the house, then be found buried under them one day about five years from now. ;) This is the reason why I am not keen on mail-order catalogs... I love what I see there, and the halfway decent buys I see in them, but it would be waaaay too easy to become addicted!
They are TOTALLY addicting, Christa. Dangerous things, really.
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