Submitter: tramadol

When I first received the email notification that someone had logged a comment on my piece, I felt touched, warm, and hopeful. The idea of a cyber connection on an intellectual plane that mattered to me was really exciting. I must say that when I realized my good cyber friend "Tramadol" was merely hocking discount pharmaceuticals via a new platform, I admit I got a little testy.

We are all familiar with the late-night telemarketing call. The phone rings. Then, an uncomfortable pause, followed by an almost human " Hello! I understand that you may be interested in (x,y,z), Mr. or Mrs. ..." And, by now, spam is old news, the seemingly random littering of virtual leaflets. But there was something truly invasive and creepy about this new platform. As a writer, psychiatrist, and person, I had put myself out there, made myself vulnerable to comment criticism, engagement. As with all my posts, I was ready for a smack-down, argument, or even a pat on the back. But Tramadol's response felt more like a random, absurdist act of violence, as if I were a politician giving a stump speech and a couple of terrorists from Bizzaro-Ethereal-Madison-Avenue jumped me, dragged me into a back alley, tattooed a billboard for Coco Puffs on my bare back, and went on their cyber way. No point, no, message, no handshake, just a marketing mission well done.

The wheels of capitalism must turn. Everybody has to make a living. I get that. But doesn't the disrespect that these tactics show, not just for individual citizens, but for the process of human engagement as a whole, lower the bar for our hopes and expectations for meaningful interaction? If 50% of my email or phone interactions become carpet-bombings of marketing dreck, then why bother engaging at all? So many of my patients wrestle daily with troubled communications, hoping to better understand and relate to their friends, families, etc. This tidal wave of targeted, misrepresented betrayal, can only make that task more of a crap-wading struggle. GD