Big brother and my white Bentley convertible

One day last summer I parked next to a white Bentley convertible at the supermarket. All the way home I fantasized about what it would be like to own that incredible machine. That night I visited Bentley’s web site to find out how much I’d have to cough up to buy one just like it. (The answer: $280,000. That’s a tad – about $255,000 – more than I was planning to spend on my next car.)

Two weeks later I received in the mail a lavish package from Bentley, sent from England, inviting me to experience the “very latest in V8 exhilaration” – a 4.0 litre twin turbo Bentley.”

Coincidence? No way. I didn’t enter my name or address on the web site. And it’s not like I’m on Bentley’s list of prior customers. I have never received any mail from Bentley before. I have never set foot in a Bentley showroom. 

All I can conclude is that Bentley noted my URL was visiting its web site … matched that URL to my service provider (Cablevision) …  which then provided Bentley with my name and address. When Bentley saw I lived in Wilton, Conn., the company sent me the mailing under the mistaken impression I might be in the market for one of its swanky cars. If I had been logged on from, say, Appalachia, I doubt I would have received that mailing.

I may be wrong about this. If so, I apologize to Bentley. But I don’t think I am. I ran a direct marketing agency; I am aware of what’s possible and what isn’t. The odds of receiving that piece out of the blue so shortly after I visited the website are extremely slim.

Whatever the case, it pissed me off that Bentley invaded my privacy.

Those of you who are my Facebook friends may have seen my post Monday in which I ranted about privacy invasion by a product Bentley owners would never buy because their cooks make them from scratch rather than with a mix – Betty Crocker Gratin potatoes. I bought two packages at my local supermarket Sunday with my Citibank credit card. (Hey, I couldn’t resist – it was “Buy One, Get One Free” and they go great with the pork chops I was planning to grill.) 

The next day, as I was visiting eBay.com, up popped an ad for Betty Crocker Au Gratin potatoes, offering me a coupon good for 50 cents off two more packages. 

Publix, where I purchased the potatoes, isn’t one of those supermarket chains that requires shoppers to present an ID card in order to take advantage of savings. That leads me to the conclusion that the bank is the culprit here because the coupon wasn’t good only at Publix – it was good at any retailer that sells Betty Crocker potatoes. If Publix had been a participant, it would have insisted the coupon be good only at its stores.

But Publix, who doesn’t know me from Adam, somehow let the bank that issued my card know what I bought. Because I pay my monthly bill online, the bank already knows my URL and transmitted my purchase data to General Mills, which owns the Betty Crocker brand. Betty in her infinite wisdom decided I needed to stock up with more potatoes.

If I had ever visited Betty Crocker.com … or had been searching the web for au gratin potato recipes … I wouldn’t have minded seeing that pop-up ad. We all have received ads related to products and services we have researched or read about online … and that’s OK. Someone has to pay for the Internet. Might at well be advertisers.

And maybe – just maybe – it was a coincidence, but I’m not convinced it was. What I resent in Betty’s case is that that my personal financial records were compromised so General Mills could sell more dehydrated potatoes with packets of hydrogenated cheese flakes.

I’m a 61-year-old man. I have come to expect pop-up ads for erectile dysfunction pills, Buicks and other stuff guys my age buy. But Betty Crocker Au Gratin Potatoes? I don’t want to hear from them if they’ve obtained my contact information through what should be a private record of a financial transaction.

Data obtained through digital technology can be used in beneficial ways. I absolutely want Google, Yahoo, et al to tell the government the names and addresses of people who are researching how to build homemade bombs or fly 767s into buildings. If someone buys plastic explosives or a first-class one-way ticket from Saudi Arabia to New York using a credit card, I think it’s great if the bank that issued the card informs someone in authority about it.

I just wish marketers would use some common sense and discretion and not make the rest of us feel like we’re being watched every minute.

So, if anyone from Bentley is reading this, be advised that I was planning on buying a new Bentley convertible until I got your mailing. But it spooked me out. I’m going to buy a Rolls instead.

As for you, Betty Crocker, you should change your brand’s advertising jingle from, “You Sweet Talker, Betty Crocker” to “You’re a Stalker, Betty Crocker.” Because you are.

Note: If anyone from Bentley Motor Cars, Publix, Citibank or General Mills reads this blog and has an explanation other than what I’ve surmised, I’ll be happy to post your response.