Lately, I’ve come to think that there’s entirely too much information about me floating around out there. It seems that every time I have any kind of contact with any kind of customer service representative for whatever reason, they (or it, online), are intent on ferreting out every last bit of detail about me that they can squeeze from my unwilling mouth or pry from my typing fingers.

Name. Address. Postal Code. Birthdate. Phone number. Email address. Favourite colour. First dog’s name. Mother’s maiden name… The really bold ones go for the gold: social insurance number, credit card number, security number. They also want my customer i.d., my password, my PIN… They’ll ask me what my husband’s middle name is, what colour my eyes are, how old I am, what kind of education I’ve had, where do I work, or where did I work before I retired. The list is endless.

I spent part of my day yesterday being hassled by a “customer service” representative from Tangerine who insisted that I tell her what my last postal code and phone number was. Lordy! I have trouble with my current postal code and phone number! I felt like I should be under a bright light, sitting on a hard chair, with a darkened face in front of me demanding more and more information. No police interrogation could have been more effective than that little lady’s unrelenting questions.

I solved the problem the only way I knew how. I closed my account and told them to forward the balance to my bank.

Today, I had a problem with my new Bose system. I called Customer Service and off we went…fifteen personal questions later he told me to unplug the system, wait two minutes and plug it back in. That would reset the program and all would be well. Couldn’t he tell me that without knowing my email address and the serial number of the machine?

I hate the idea of all these different companies and their representatives knowing so much about me. What happened the the concept of personal privacy?

Yet, I find it comforting to know that the my God knows me so well that there is no need of questioning. The Creator has known me since before I was born. In fact, the hairs of my head are counted, I’m assured. My every thought is known; no secrets are hidden. I can relax and trust that God has nothing but love and care for me, all of me, all my faults and shortcomings, all my joys, all my sorrows, all my everything.

I can’t say the same for any of those people who insist they need to know the colour of my first car!


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