The more one knows
Data is wonderful. After all, it isn’t who you know but what you know.
When I get a call from a hacker, and he calls me by name, I am secretly impressed. When he calls me by the name of the lady that used to live here, I am equally impressed. It demonstrates that they aren’t omnipotent with all their data. I even accept mail that is addressed to occupant.
Similarly, when I get a call from someone who actually calls for a valid reason, I like it when there is data behind the call. The insurance agent, the new one. He called to update our file, about the value of the house. Glad they keep on top of such things. I mean, what with inflation and all.
But, it gets better. We called back to make sure that he was aware that we had an upstairs and a downstairs. And he knows that. He hasn’t come to visit, yet. Oh, right. Data. But the previous agent hasn’t come by in years, never actually saw our renos. Data. It doesn’t matter how they know. How do they know?
I mustn’t obsess about such things. Data is its own answer. Even when there are errors, because you can update such details. Much worse when there is a vacuum. I can always mislead the caller; tell him that this is a different house. Watch him try to sort that out, without virtue of a visit. I wonder if they know where I live. Google doesn’t. I checked already. I could claim, that the house is red. And they might not even realize the subterfuge.
