You want to know what happens when you cancel your Glamour Magazine subscription after nine years?
You get this in the mail:
Marketers assume you are now 56 years old and only shop at Chico’s. They even sent me sample articles:
Listen people, I know I’m (well, I hope I’m) going to be old one day and prefer wearing pants with elastic waistbands (okay, I prefer those now) and sipping Ensure for lunch. I’ll forget my best friend’s name and together we’ll take seventeen minutes to get seated at the movie theater. It’ll be great, really.
I’m just not there yet. I still read chick-lit, I can utilize the map feature on my iPhone, and I can successfully run up the stairs in my house holding a water bottle and a nine-pack of toilet paper. I’m not having hot spells yet, and still think my husband is a good kisser. While I know in about eight years the decades of laying out with baby oil with my cousin on the beach are going to show themselves, they haven’t quite yet. And speaking of my cousin, we still talk about clothes and boys and hair removal remedies on the phone every day during her commute.
But I fear the marketers haven’t picked up on any of this, and instead they’ve noticed that I’m on Facebook as much as the elderly, and oddly, my iPhone activity shuts down at 9 pm because that’s when I go to sleep. And then there’s the fact that my husband buys wine-making apparatuses off Amazon in the same manner that some ladies buy jewelry and cat accessories off QVC (shall we say, excessively). Plus, when I ordered my last Origins products, I chose the anti-aging serum as my free sample.
So you add it all up, and they think I’m 100.
But listen, marketers, I may act like a Florida retiree at times (I seriously do go to bed at 9), but I’m not there yet. So you take your “mature” product offers, and you hold on to them for another twenty years. Got it?
I mean, unless you can score me some of that anti-aging serum. Stuff was awesome.