Is that too much?

Seventy thousand unopened emails.  I’m not exaggerating. That is how many emails rested in my wife’s Gmail inbox.  When she mentioned how her emails “were getting out of control, and could I help her clean up her emails,” I quickly said sure.  I don’t know what I thought out of control meant, but I can assure you I didn’t expect what I found. 

Obviously, the immediate fix was to delete all unopened emails.  But that wouldn’t have solved anything.  The volume of my wife’s email was driven by the number of companies who had her email address and wanted real estate in her inbox to get her to do something.  Automated emails sent on some regular interval clogged her inbox.  The amount was so big she had given up reading what was sent her way. 

There is value in a subscriber base.  Companies consider their email list a pipeline for sales and, as such, spend lots of dollars developing their base.  They also derive significant value in what they can learn from the data they collect interacting with customers.  Data analytics is a powerful tool companies use to manage their business. It provides metrics to track and learn about performance and trends.  Data is gold and companies go out of their way to collect everything they can.

As I stared at the list of emails in her inbox, I laughed out loud at the diversity of the emails and the massive number of companies trying to communicate with her.  There were literally hundreds of retail companies.  There were dozens I had never heard of.  I learned my wife freely and happily gave her information to anyone who asked her email address.  She would do this when she bought something, when she was browsing, when on their website, or if they had a box asking if she wanted updates on anything.   To be fair, she was interested in what she saw.  To that end, she readily gave them the ability to reach out to her.

It made sense, but I still wondered how the number of companies emailing her could have grown so large.  And then I spent a bit of time at a mall shopping for family events.  Each time I went to purchase an item, I would hand them my credit card and they would respond with, what is your phone number and your email address.  The question was a well-rehearsed component of how they checked out a customer.  It was an operational part of their process.  But it isn’t necessary.  Last time I checked a credit card didn’t require an ID, or even any identifying information.  It used to be when you handed someone a card, they quickly took it, processed the card, handed it back to you, put your product in a bag, and thanked you for your business.  Today, they want to record personal information about you. 

I was having none of this.  When I was asked to give that information, I politely declined.  The look on the face of the person seeking my data was telling.  They seemingly didn’t know what to do.  They had been told to collect this as part of the checkout process.  Observing their brief confusion, I asked them why they needed the info and the answer initially given was ridiculous.  When it was obvious I wasn’t convinced, the person gave an honest shrug and responded, “I don’t know.”  As you well know they don’t need your personal information to take your credit card.  They just want it.

I have now noticed this wasn’t an isolated experience.  Almost every consumer interaction follows a similar path.  You have something you want to accomplish or buy; the company is happy to oblige.  In return they want your data.  Have you made a dinner reservation lately?  Name, number, email address please.  I just want a steak.  I don’t want to date.  But that’s not good enough.  To reserve a table, I need to open my kimono. 

It begs the question, what do we get in return?  I come from a mindset that says commerce is an exchange of goods.  I pay you money, you give me something back.  Where does this fit into that?  I gave them my credit card.  They are getting paid.  I want my product in return.  Give me the hat; my son will like it, all good.  But now they want my data.  What do I get?  The standard answer is they will keep me updated on deals and promotions, and I will be connected to all the “news and updates” happening.  That’s not value.  That’s harassment.  I don’t need to know when they made this spring’s new style available to sell.  If I want to buy something, I will seek it out. 

I am hard pressed to understand the value proposition for me.  I just don’t see one.  It’s not like my life is more convenient because they know more about me.  I don’t suddenly walk through life at a more leisurely pace because Bass Pro Shop knows my email.  The simple truth is the value of our mutually agreed transaction is out of whack. 

With my newfound annoyance of the intrusive need of companies today, I embarked on simplifying my wife’s Gmail account.  What a pain.  The deleting part was easy.  However, as fast as I deleted an email, I would get two more from the same company.  They were relentless.  I then began the slow process of unsubscribing from each sender.  For some this was easy.  Others, not so much.  I found it particularly annoying that some wanted me to go to their website and search the fine print until I found the almost hidden button which enabled me to cast them aside for good.  It wasn’t always obvious and at times I felt like I was taking a quiz intended to confuse me enough that I inadvertently signed up for twice as many emails as I was already getting.  

If I was lucky enough to find the magic button in a timely manner, I was then moved to a pop-up page that wanted to make sure I was serious.  “Are you sure.  We will miss you.”  What an annoying assumption.  I guess our relationship was one sided; they were feeling a loss.  I didn’t feel like I was losing anything.

Having formally broken up, I was then asked to tell them why.  I was given a dropdown menu of choices.  At this point I was searching for a choice that said, “it wasn’t you it was me.”  Flashbacks to all the times I had been dumped in high school resurfaced.  This separation was becoming emotional.  Just at the point when I thought I might be slipping into a weird place, I noticed the choice that does make sense.  “Too many emails.”  Perfect, exactly what I wanted to say.   

Five emails a day is too much.