Dear Mr. Davis:
You probably don’t remember, but I sat near you in the MedCheck; I had accompanied my daughter there so that she could have my granddaughter examined for an illness. Of all the people who swirled around us that day, I remember you because of the information about yourself that you conveyed.
Of the commercials that I see on my daily commute through the offerings of my non-cable-connected TV, several are solicitations from companies that provide services to block cyber intrusions into one’s personal and confidential information. The social media site that I frequent — I have jokingly dubbed it “Crackbook” — is rife with warnings from people who have seen/heard/read about/know of someone who has encountered a “skimming” device at some local convenient store’s gas station pump. And for those techno-newborn among us who know nothing of the ways in which a skimmer works . . . I fear for you. But even among those who are competent at navigating the World Wide Web, there seems to be a lack of concern for the gathering of intel about their personal lives. And listening to speech in a public place is a low-tech way of acquiring sensitive information.
In a coffee shop that I used to patronize, I would often see people on laptops, wearing headphones and conducting what seemed to be business meetings. This is the new norm, though: “private” meetings in public spaces. And I have written before, Mr. Davis, of the careless volume that strangers use when striding the streets with their cell phones before their mouths. It seems that the convenience of the cell phone, its ease of operation and world-wide reach has stripped away from us the privacy and intimacy of our phone calls. For most of my working life, I managed other people. I could close the door to my office to insure that sensitive personal conversations were not wafted into the public hallways. But even when I worked in a cubicle, I made an effort to modulate my tone when on the phone. It seemed to be the courteous thing to do in a crowded environment. When I was the manager of a major company’s small loan office, it was my job to collect and process personal information as a way to determine a potential borrower’s credit-worthiness. In the privacy of an office setting or on the phone, borrowers would give me or my staff the information we needed to perform a credit check. And Mr. Davis, you gave that same information to every listener in the medical office waiting room.
I know your full name, your date of birth and your Social Security number. I know these important things, not as a creditor that requires that information, but because you gave that information to someone on your cell phone. You held your phone in front of your mouth and carefully enunciated. I listened, just as carefully, stunned that you would be so reckless. The commercials that advertise for programs to protect against cyber intrusions and identity theft would seem to have no value for you, as none of those programs could have protected against you volunteering your information in a public space.
Mr. Davis, I confess that I was irritated that you required me to be a part of your communication with an insurance provider by making such an audible call. I tried to make it obvious to you that I was listening, hoping that you would realize the danger of your over-sharing. You did not, so I say this to you:
I hope you found a better rate for your insurance coverage.