Survey Says: "No Sale, Skippy!"

I slipped past one of them, but the second one looked more determined. He was scanning the crowd with sharp black eyes.

I braced myself, letting the front length of my hair slip over my face as I walked past, in a covert attempt to shield. Like this ever worked for Slash of Guns n' Roses or that kid in The Incredibles... And it didn't work for me, either. The young man moved forward and stepped straight into my path.

"Ma'am, we're doing a survey--"

"I'm sorry. No time," I said, dodging him and sprinting to the escalator like my tennies had just burst into flame.

I rue the day I ever became a target for the Mall Survey Jockeys.

Oh, I used to make it past them. Me and my bag from Hot Topic or Spencers or Rue 21. I used to see them look right through me in order to pounce on some poor soccer mom, who had a moment without Munchkins at her feet and thought she'd pop into the mall for a rare half-hour of kid-free shopping bliss.

But now, I fool absolutely nobody. I've made it into the soccer mom demographic, I guess, in spite of the lack of progeny, cleats or a mini-van. And my opinions matter.

Of course, they don't. I mean, not really. I'd be bound to skew their whole study. If they're hoping to get an insight into the shopping habits of the typical thirty-something American female, well, I'm not out looking for a new pair of Nikes for little Timmy so he isn't socially ostracized and scarred for life...

And I'm not on a quest for a particular pair of $4,000 shoes because Sarah Michelle Jessica Gellpark wore them once on Sex and the Slayer.

I'm at the mall primarily to pick up those one or two things that can't be had from the second-hand CD store, the thrift store or Half-Price Books. You know: used and cheap. Which is sorta how I feel when I see people closing in on me to extract product preferences from my brain.

I'd actually be interested to know the percentage of folks who do go to the mall and think, "Hey, I was here trying to get a few errands done, but suddenly I'm in the mood to have an 18-year-old previously unknown to me take my opinions and choices down to be shared with an unnamed marketing group. I've got a couple of hours to spare."

Doesn't this mean that the only people they get to do these surveys are folks who are unemployed or have nowhere to be at any set time?

And, really, they're going about it the wrong way, anyway. They could round up so many more of us if there were just a trapdoor at the foot of the escalator. Sure, they'd net some folks outside of their demographics...

They'd have to throw those ones back.

But all in all, they'd be more likely to get a cross-section of folks instead of just the trusting Jane American who doesn't think much about disappearing for an undetermined length of time in an undisclosed location for purposes no one quite makes clear.

So I think the key to this is for me to look less approachable at the mall. No more smiling for me. No more laughing with my shopping buddies. Severe, frightening, and likely to cut them... that's what I need to go for.

Hm. This means I'll have to hit the mall; I'll need a few accessories.

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