When Your Drugstore Becomes A Bit Of A Pest

I don't need this. Just when I thought the fantods were disappearing and my life was getting back to a modicum of normalcy (I've even gotten over my fear of campaign ads and am feeling kind of nostalgic about that rich former socialist warning us lackadaisical capitalists that the end is nigh), I find myself hounded yet again by another innocuous yet oddly vexing entity--my local drugstore, CVS. I count three different CVS locations as my regular store--making at least one stop at each every week, with another four or five satellite ones I am known to patronize. I admit it, I like the store. Most of them are laid out pretty identically, so I know exactly where to go to find the few items I regularly need (yes, I have shopped in one and left the store surprised to find myself at a different location than I thought I was at while in the store). The staff at all the stores are uniformly friendly. I'm not one much for comparison shopping, but I never leave a CVS thinking I've overspent. In short, my CVS experience over the years has been thoroughly satisfactory. Thus, the deeper pain I now feel at CVS's betrayal. Well, betrayal might be too harsh; let's try "judgmental intrusion," okay?

Rewards card. Coupons. Positive sounding words, right? Not anymore. The other evening I bought my usual at CVS: a pack of smokes and a loaf of bread. "Why yes I do," I responded to the nice clerk who asked if I had a CVS rewards card. I whipped out my keys, flipped through my twenty or other (not nearly as dog-eared) rewards cards, found the CVS one, and held it out for the clerk to scan. After paying, I waited for what had been my favorite moment (or four) of the entire CVS shopping experience--the coupon unspooling. If you too are a CVS addict, you know the moment(s) well--the cash register spits out a small forest of thermal tape with your transaction info and then, depending if you're a lucky shopper, loads of coupons (I always feel a little sad when I'm unspooled a lone coupon rather than a small basketful [that long, multi-couponed white register tape with the black ink is like a colorblind man's lei, let me tell you]). This particular night I felt like an old lady hitting three plums on a slot machine--my glee at the tufts of register tape spitting out of the machine was only tempered by the thought of what coupons I'd miss out on when the machine ran out of tape to unspool before my coupons had stopped frothing over. Oh boy, I thought, what shopping I've got in store for me over the next couple weeks, as I calmly pocketed the (forget lei, this was a wedding dress train) receipt (a cool and an experienced--and now formerly happy--CVS shopper saves the Holy Reading of The Coupon Scroll for a private moment; he doesn't jump up and down two feet from the register and celebrate getting 15% off his next purchase of laundry detergent--tres gauche). So, two steps out of the store, I looked at the receipt. I've been pissed ever since.

The first coupon offered me a 20% off "shopping pass" (man, I want coupons; "shopping pass" sounds a tad hoity toity for my sundry shopping needs) if I got a flu shot "today." Well, first of all, while I like and respect all CVS employees, I'm not sure I want to trust the one administering the shots on the night shift, probably the same high school kid who just rang up my purchase and bestowed upon me said wedding train receipt. Second, and most important, while I thank CVS for looking out for my health during the cold and flu season, I kind of don't like them attempting to bribe me into getting a flu shot, being opposed to flu shots in principle (well, not a very principled principle--I just don't want to get a shot of any kind) as I am (I buy an annual bottle of NyQuil and take my chances, and thus far I've never had a heinous flu experience; NyQuil not only seems to battle quite effectively any flu-like symptoms, but it delivers the best knockout punch this side of an Uma Thurman uppercut). Okay, fine, CVS is just trying to be nice, and how are they to know my stand on flu shots?

But that "how are they supposed to know" is the crux of my anger at the remaining coupons I received the other night. Look, I'm no techie, but I "get" data mining and modern marketing techniques. I know THEY--in this instance, CVS--know all about me. I know CVS knows about everything I buy via my little rewards card (ooh, I just noticed the CVS rewards card is called ExtraCare; I'm beginning to get the pejorative meaning of both of those words). I've received enough coupons offering me deals on quit smoking products and $.50 off candy bars to know these coupons aren't generated randomly, or generically. It's not exactly Big Brother, more like pesky Auntie Gertie. But what the hell. The next coupon I received was for "$2 off any Beauty purchase $10 or more" (I nearly hurled my loaf of bread through the store window when I read that). I don't do beauty, and certainly not Beauty, and definitely certainly not at $10+. I might do buy soap, but I don't make beauty "purchases." What kind of BS is this CVS? Are you assuming I need to make a Beauty purchase? Are you assuming, based on my usual mundane purchases, that I must be a rather unbeautiful consumer and thus could use a couple bucks off some beauty product? How dare you judge me like this, CVS. Either that or your data mining's wires are horribly crossed; some poor multi-beauty-purchaser is scratching his or her pretty little head as he or she is staring at a coupon for Gatorade or Hot Pockets.

And then, as if CVS was reading my very real-time thoughts, came the final coup(de grace)on: "$1 off any one Lean Cuisine Frozen Meal." Fine, I've exceeded my last year's total purchase of Hershey's with Almonds bars, you don't have to rub it in. Does this ExtraCare card make me look fat? Maybe I do need a flu-shot/beauty spritz/xx lbs. diet makeover, but it's really none of CVS's business, is it? Well, sure their business kind of consists of helping make that makeover, but only if I choose them, right? It shouldn't be their business to guilt me/bait me into making that makeover. From time to time I've wondered just what CVS stands for. Now I know--Conscience Victimizing Syndicate. And by the way, I've had a Lean Cuisine Frozen Meal before. A mouse-sized ort of cheese on top of a lone Ritz cracker is more filling. Walgreen's here I come.