In this computer age, it`s comforting to find reminders that computers can be just as dense and as stubborn as people. Every couple of months a notice arrives in the mail saying we owe $11 and change for late payment on our mortgage back in `83. The bank–the people at the bank, that is–keeps telling us to ignore the notices. We don`t owe the money, and they know it. They just can`t ”get it out of the computer”–can`t get this buzzing hulk with all the lights and buttons to accept the truth.
Recently, some fancy-pants computer gave me an eight-digit number, decided ”Larry” was a woman`s name, and sent me an embossed letter and pamphlet urging me to drop by Saks Fifth Avenue where ”three of our most essential treatments” have been reserved for ”Ms. Larry.” They include an
”extraordinary Cellular Skincare Program from Switzerland” which has been
”the well-kept secret of a small coterie of women whose beautiful skin remained remarkably resistant to the signs of aging.” After using it I would see a ”dramatic difference in the appearance” of my skin.
Granted, I`ve been stuck under the same skin for 47 years, but I don`t think I look like an old goat yet, and I don`t have a hankering to look dramatically different.
There is nothing practical in any of this for ”Ms. Larry.” These characters in Switzerland have apparently come up with nothing that would reduce or eliminate my jowls or the odd wart here and there. The pamphlet makes no mention of any cure for my most prominent facial problem, big red ears.
There is also a hint that some of this stuff is dangerous. The literature warns ”never use Cellular Neck Treatment above the jawline.”
There`s not a word of explanation, and I`m left wondering what this gunk does to you if you forget and smear it on your face. Makes your lips fall off?
We can relax–for awhile anyway. As long as computers don`t know the first thing about sex, can`t tell the difference between a ”Ms. Larry” with big red ears and a Ms. Laura with high cheek bones, what`s there to worry about?
