I found a letter recently that came to the house last summer, addressed to me. I still have the envelope. Aside from the shiny green star on it, it does not appear to be sent by a crazy person. And yet a woman I don't know proceeds to ask me for money. For her senior year of college.
Just to be clear, I don't exactly have that kind of cheddar floating around the bank account. Even for people I actually know, or to whom I have some actual connection.
We've all come to expect email phishing scams, but the use of snail mail struck me — seeming at once, both antiquated and more less fishy. But why me? I have no answers.
I mean, I was no shrinking violet 23-years ago, but didn't exactly father kids out of wedlock. I literally have no idea who Nicole Hamilton of Dayton, Tennessee is, why she chose to spend postage on me, how she got my address, or why she thinks I am wealthy enough or charitable enough to stand a loan to a complete stranger.
More than anything, I have no idea how anyone grows their cojones big enough to cold-call someone they don't know with this sort of request. But hell, we live in the entitlement society, and surely Nicole Hamilton of Dayton, Tennessee is as entitled as anyone to whittle a chunk off the now-staggering cost of higher education. But why this way? And why me? How targeted was this campaign? Whose mailing list did she buy? And what made her think doing so would be cost effective?
I could go on, but it's Monday, I'm at work, and I suppose I should do something today to, you know, earn my paycheck.