The revolution will be webcast.

I routinely get annoyed by older people who don’t understand the why’s of technology.

Here’s a case study: paper vs. digital records of any type.  “Paper is better,” says this crowd, “because it is in an inherently readable form!   And it lasts longer than any other storage medium!  It isn’t subject to computer crashes and disk failures!”  I’ve heard all the arguments, and they’re all pure bullshit arguments coming from ignorance.

I have a copy of one of the original BBSes I ran in the early 1980’s.. every text file, every post.  I have most of my journals (the ones I kept in electronic form).  I have scanned copies of telephone bills from the late 1980’s.  I have every game I used to play as a kid.  Heck, I even have a lot of the analog media (music, TV shows) as well.  And it is almost guaranteed that I will continue to have all of this until the day I die.

How can I guarantee that?  Because data is fungible.  It’s a living entity: it isn’t an object.  Hard drives fail.  Media disintegrates.  But the data can live on, PRECISELY because it isn’t tied to the object that carries it.   It can be rewritten countless times.

Since I’ve been a teenager, I’ve made it a point to back everything up religiously.  Every year for the past 25 years, I’ve taken my archives and copied them to a bigger hard drive.. and then put the old hard drive in an offsite storage unit.  More recently, I keep a RAID 5 array at home.. but still, once a year, there’s this “buy a new hard drive, take the old hard drives out and lock them away” process that guarantees that everything gets copied. And even though my digital archive keeps expanding and growing, the space required to store it has actually gotten a little smaller over the years.  Hard drives are now smaller than ever, and store more than entire rooms of equipment did years ago.

Try that with paper.  No, really.   Try it.  Try expanding your paper storage capacity without expanding the space it occupies.

If I had a fire in my apartment tomorrow, I’d probably lose hundreds of books.  I’d lose a few weeks of mail.  I’d probably lose identity documents, such as my passport and birth certificate.  You know what I wouldn’t lose?

The lifetime of memories that is sitting in the storage unit across town on last year’s hard drive.

And that’s the point that gets missed.  Every year, the data is refreshed.  Even though the picture might be 15 years old, the bits on the media are never more than a year, maybe two, old.  Yes, I’ve lost individual item once and a while through bit rot and/or accident during the copy process.  There was the one year I completely trashed the backup of dustpuppy, which resulted in me losing some of the goofy stuff I did on that machine (like the “This is BS!” edit of the CBS bumper of that era).

If I cared, when it happened I could have probably fished around the previous year’s hard drive and found it.  I didn’t care.

Computer data is survivable precisely because there’s little, if any, incremental cost to copy and store it.  As computer storage capacity continues to increase, so does our ability to retain it.  And stewardship of the data is easier  as well.

The most recent bullshit argument, which demonstrates the fallacy the “paper is better!” crowd like to bring up, is “you can’t read a punchcard from the 70’s!”  Actually, yes I can (oddly enough, I can read punchcards, both in EBCDIC and ASCII, by hand.. as can anybody who’s ever worked with them).  But I don’t have to.

Why can I log in to my 25 year old BBS?  Because I copied the data off of the obsolete medium of Commodore 1541 floppy disks when I migrated to a new platform (then a Commodore Amiga) while the storage medium was still viable.  The 170 kilobyte disk image sits in my Linux ext3 filesystem RAID array, ready to be accessed with a simple command, that starts a C-64 emulator, mounts the floppy disk, and assigns the virtual C-64’s serial port to a UNIX TCP/IP socket that I can simply connect to at my leisure.  Since the emulator is open-source, and also backed up with the data, there’s no reason why (with proper stewardship) somebody 100 years from now couldn’t build the code (or at least analyze it and create a modern equivalent) and log in to the Neverending Story BBS of Anaheim, California circa 1983.

Oh, and guess what?  Through the magic of “the cloud”, I can now store that data in multiple datacenters in different countries operated by different companies, if I’m really worried that keeping a hard drive in a locked storage unit across town isn’t adequate.  As we move forward, the ability to maintain your personal “data soup” is only going to get easier.  Even without intending it, if I lost both my “active” copy at home and my “archive copy” in the storage unit I could probably reconstruct a small percentage of my personal data just scraping pictures off Facebook, my web server, and a few other scattered places.  Hmm.. maybe it’s time I get in the habit of the yearly rsync.

By being fungible, data is assured survival.  Hey, if a bored geek can do it to his prepubescent C-64 BBS, anybody can.

End of an era…

So, I had an interesting experience coming home today. As I’m walking along the Oregon City Promenade, I notice immediately that the usual sounds of the paper factory just south of downtown… with its constant huffing and puffing and whirring and clanking, was silent. It was an eerie sensation, as I stood there on the bluff looking down on it, I had no idea that I was actually witnessing the end of an era.

Oregon City has long been a mill town. Heck, part of the reason my apartment building exists was to house workers at this very paper mill. Tonight, it sits quiet. A victim of globalization, if you read the story in the newspaper. It’s apparently cheaper to buy recycled paper from China than to recycle it locally.

Even though I’ve lived in Oregon City for less than a year, I can sense the loss. Not just of the around 200 jobs (probably all reasonably well-paying factory jobs, no less). But the loss of a small piece of this town’s legacy. Like so many manufacturing towns all across the country, the closing if this factory not only means the loss of a few jobs: it also represents the loss of a piece of this sleepy town’s soul.

With the closing of the Blue Heron Paper Company this town just becomes another Portland exurb, eventually absorbed into the fabric of the Big City just like Kenton was at this time 100 years ago, or like Beaverton has become in the past 30 years. Our city government is eyeing the property, on the south edge of downtown with some wonderful views of Willamette Falls, keen on redevelopment. They see Oregon City being the next “transit town” for Portland.. doubly so if through redevelopment they can lure either the yet-uncolored Milwaukie light rail line or the extant Green Line to our humble little Oregon City Transit Center. A revitalized and redeveloped downtown Oregon City would certainly be a tempting carrot to dangle in front of the TriMet board, that’s for sure.

But are we selling our town’s soul to save it? I don’t really know. I just know that tomorrow morning when I walk down the Promenade I’ll be hearing the traffic of 99E instead of a whirring Industrial Revolution relic. And it won’t seem like the same Oregon City anymore.

Sometimes spam borders on poetry.

To wit, the following comment spam (the URLs attached to the comment were for something completely unrelated):

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*grunt*

I admire Summertime, my cat.

Yesterday, she managed to catch and kill a mouse that I knew had been scurrying about in my apartment.  And, as I was cleaning up the mess of blood and bone on my kitchen floor, I came to a conclusion about my beloved pet.  My sweet, adorable little ball of fat and fur that I cuddle up to on cold nights and have long, goofy conversations with is a killer.  I’m only spared because I’m bigger and viewed as a surrogate parent.  It is not my status as an “apex predator” that keeps her calm and docile in my presence… I’m more of a passive god-like being who does all the hard work (hunting for food and protecting “the pride”) for her.

But, as the occasional dead mammal or insect reminds me, she (even in her docile, “domesticated” state) is still a quite capable hunter.

And that’s something to admire.  I see it in her facial expressions looking out the window.   I see her lusting after birds and squirrels outside.  I see her instincts at work when she plays with me, chasing after a fur-covered catnip mouse.  Biting it at the neck, raking her powerful back claws at its belly to evisceration.  And after play is done, she sits on my lap purring, content with her role as a companion animal.  She’s safe and warm inside this tall pink monkey’s cave.

She has had the opportunity to leave.  Even now in my ground-floor apartment, I’ll leave the window open on warmer days.  So far, she doesn’t want to go anywhere.  When I lived in a suburban house and she had access to a large yard, she’d go outside on the pleasant days and play a little… but mostly wanted to sun herself on the cool grass, a pleasure I’d sometimes share.  On those winter days when I’ve opened the window, you can almost see in her facial expressions the thought process.  “Yes, I COULD go out there, but why would I?  It’s warm in here, and that big clumsy ape will kill one of those weird round things and give me the meat anytime I want, so.. *purr nuzzle* Hey, daddy, would you mind killing one of those weird round things now?”

She’s still a hunter, and even though she’s the result of thousands of years of passive domestication she still holds on to her true “cat nature.”  Hell, the big clumsy ape isn’t dumb: it is precisely her true “cat nature” that makes her a good companion.  She kills the occasional pest, and is otherwise agreeable company.  Even her biological processes are compatible with the way I live.. she’s learned to poop in the place I designate, so I don’t have cat turds in my oatmeal.  (Part of that bargain is I pee in a similarly designated place, so there’s no monkey urine in her meat.)

I can also see in her eyes part of me as well.  I’m a hunter.  As a human being with ADD, I’ve been told to not view my neurological tendencies as a “handicap”, but as a different way of interacting with the world.  I am one of the last of my species.. a hunter living in a farmer’s world.  Like my cat, I look outside the window of civilized existence and see the “prey on the horizon”, although for my advanced primate brain it’s less about killing meat for food and more about a yearning to be on the move.  Finding better sources of food and water.  Perhaps a nicer place to curl up and sleep.  And always on the prowl for more mates.  Definitely more mates.  Hey, in addition to being a Hunter, I’m also male.

Presently, I balance the desires of the hunter with my human need to be a functioning member of the society I was born into. I do not have any Hunter skills (at least, none I’m consciously aware of).  I have a skill that requires sitting in one place for long periods of time and interacting with a hunk of plastic with a wire coming out the back.  Not exactly the lifestyle my Native American ancestors would envision as “successful” and “rewarding.”

Yet, I find the frontier in the electronic world to be just as stimulating as any geographical frontier.  Like my cat plays with a catnip toy to keep her Hunter self amused, I explore Google Maps and Wikipedia, and keep a perpetual electronic watch on Reddit and Fark. Those who’ve been in my home have seen the constant stimulus: everywhere you look there’s a LCD display with some RSS feed or info-graphic on it.  I’m most comfortable in an environment where I’m constantly being bombarded by stimulus, and if there’s one thing on the electronic frontier.. it’s stimulus.

In the wild, my Hunter skills would be valuable.  Being a Hunter is a constant state of distraction, where every potential distracting detail demands split-second re-evaluation of your world.

What was that sound of a branch breaking on the ground?  Predator, or prey?  Or maybe a mate?  Now there’s movement over there.. but whatever it is it is too small to eat, eat me, or fuck.. so never mind.  Hey, that bird call sounds familiar.. I’ve heard those birds around water.  What direction is it coming from?  I’m thirsty.

This is what life is like inside the Hunter’s mind: all of that could have been in a split second, my body moving towards the bird calls even before the thought process has bubbled up to the awake mind.

Increasingly I feel like I’m sacrificing my birthright as a human being to be part of a society that holds different values.  I often feel like I see things that others can’t.  I can smell the foul air in the wind, sometimes quite distinctly.  My natural instincts often tell me something is wrong.  My body feels undernourished, my mind impoverished, my spirit deadened.. even in the center of a surplus of food to eat, of knowledge and culture to enjoy, and millions of potential mates within my prowling radius.  I want to run.

Why is there famine in my heart when there is plenty all around?

Every day I take a drug that has the effect of allowing the Hunter to sit down for a minute and stop hunting.  In those moments where my hunter brain is still enough that I can think (without being bombarded by Hunter Stimulus) there’s an unnerving calm.  And there’s amazing productivity.  But often times it comes at a price.  There’s less creativity.  Time moves at a different pace.  I can almost feel the change.

This, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing.  The past year I’ve been taking drugs to treat my ADD have been a personal Renaissance.  I’ve gotten my feet back underneath me, and I’m re-learning  a lot of what it truly means to be me.

But it is also presenting me with a realization.  I have a birthright to be The Hunter.  It’s my true nature.  Regardless of how many pills I take or how I retrain my brain, I will never be The Farmer.. and it would be wrong for me to even try.

---==<o>==---

Not long ago, I started talking about following the “Paleo Diet”, and I got a lot of feedback.  Not all the feedback was good, but even in the bad there was something of value I could take away.  One of the “negative” points was, and I’m paraphrasing here, that I’m not a caveman, why would I eat like one?

My initial response to that was indignation.

I’m sure the friend who said that didn’t mean anything by it, but my response was very telling to me.  It was almost like something inside me was rebelling in that moment against the thought that I was anything but a hairy, smelly, feral caveman; knuckles dragging on the ground and monosyllabic grunts for speech.  My higher self (in a moment of non-caveman clarity a split-second later) said “Fuck you, buddy, maybe I am a caveman!”  It was almost an instinctive response, channeled through my layers of consciousness with considerable reverberation, only being amplified by The Hunter Mind’s need to defend his territory.

I now realize just how much of my true self came out at that split second.  There is, somewhere deep down, an “inner caveman feedle” that has been yearning to come out.

There are primal, very human needs deep inside me that aren’t being met by society at large.  Every once and a while, that part of me gets touched, and it feels wonderful.  It feels empowering.  It feels natural.

And I realize how many aspects of my life this manifests.  My diet (while not strictly “Paleo”, those are the foods I’m the most comfortable eating).  My spirituality (a blend of neopaganism, tribalism, and animism, with a huge dose of skepticism). My sexuality (bi, poly).   Even with all my affinity for technology and all my “forward thinking”, deep inside I feel like I’m a throwback.  I’m a very intelligent “caveman”, who has learned to put on clothes and “behave” with the “civilized farmers” out of necessity.

So, I want to substitute a different word for The Hunter.  I don’t really have the right word yet.  “Paleolithic human” is cumbersome, but it accurately describes exactly how I feel sometimes.

This increasingly looks like the beginnings of another life journey for me.  I want to find ways I can let the “paleo human” out, to let him explore the world the way he wants it to be.  To hunt, to eat, to explore the natural world in a way that allows those very primal needs to be met, while still holding on to the comforts of Neolithic civilization.   And, hopefully, to find other “Paleolithic humans” who are willing to show me the skills I haven’t learned yet to make me feel empowered.

*grunt*

 

And now back to our regularly scheduled inanity…

This is a slightly edited comment I made on a friend’s LJ about people who edit themselves on Facebook, so they won’t offend people. I felt it was a bit insightful, and stands alone as an interesting commentary.

I tend to tweet a lot regardless of the appropriateness of my comments. For me, that’s part of the fun: rarely are you going to really say anything that can truly offend in ~160 characters, and it will often be a good trigger for later reminding you of a particular state of mind or emotional outburst. And those who are in on whatever joke it is also get the joys of a good lulz.

However, more than once something I tweeted was taken out of context and offended someone. Example: I have a habit of tweeting “I’M POOPIN'” whenever somebody on Twitter (or maybe even in meatspace) overshares something. Most of my friends are familiar with the concept of a “Twitter-shitter” [somebody who tweets on the toilet about being on the toilet] and would never mistake me for one. But, many “Facebook friends” are people who don’t interact with me on a daily basis, and aren’t in on the joke. And one got offended (I only later found out some months later that they blocked all my friends posts for a period of months over the incident).

My response? I was actually offended myself. You would block me over a cheesy one-line post, and not have the nerve to tell me about it until months later? And not talk to me about it?

Since that time, I’ve decided I don’t give a load of Dingo’s Kidneys what people on Facebook think. If they’re truly my friends, they won’t be offended: they know that in real life I’m crass, uncouth, and anything but urbane. I belch in public and fart in elevators. Why would I be any different online?

Help needed…

First, the good news. I got a really lucrative contract that’s going to probably take care of my expenses for at least the next six months once I complete it.

The bad news: I needed money like two weeks ago.

So, in short, I’m short. I have the rent paid, but that’s about it. I need about $1,000 to keep lights on and other misc. expenses until I’m able to bill for the first milestone on my next project.

If you can help me out, I can pay you back. I’m hoping that a few friends step forward rather than having to mine one person’s pocket. I can pay you back within 30-45 days.

I also need some help from people who are capable of lifting heavy things this weekend. I have some bulky things in my storage unit near Hollywood that I want to move into the cheaper unit down here in Clackamas County. Please contact me directly on this one.

Lastly, if anybody has any boxes, let me know, I might need a few.

Yes, folks, it literally is this bad.

This is so completely asinine that I have to pass this along unedited. I’m quite literally.. gobsmacked

This item is from a mailing list I subscribe to regarding privacy issues.  For those who have some interest in the subject, it’s a great list to be on, and you should subscribe posthaste.  Lauren is quite a sensible fellow, and rarely is one to “cry wolf”, so the insights he posts to his mailing lists and other forums are always informative.

White House Tour Cybersecurity: Send In Your SSN
– Via Unencrypted, Unprotected Email!

http://lauren.vortex.com/archive/000799.html

Greetings.  Before the U.S. government proceeds at all with their
controversial and risky Trusted Identities in Cyberspace Internet ID
scheme ( http://bit.ly/eZug4M ), perhaps they should demonstrate their
ability to follow for themselves the most basic of Internet security
procedures.

Very large numbers of persons tour the White House every year.  All
prospective tour guests 14 years of age and older are required to
pre-submit their Social Security Numbers (SSN) for security checks
(apparently it is common for children under the age 14 to have their
SSNs submitted as well).

One might assume that information as sensitive as SSNs would be
handled by the associated authorities with the same care and diligence
as, say, a typical bank Web site — using SSL/TLS encryption for the
protection of this data that is so often abused for identity fraud.

But that assumption would apparently be false.  An array of
Congressional Web sites instruct would-be White House tour guests to
submit their personal information (names, dates of birth, *social
security numbers*, etc.) via *standard unencrypted e-mail* to
(for example) various addresses @mail.house.gov!

Here are just a few randomly selected examples where (apparently
customized by Congressional district in these cases) White House Tour
“XLS” Security Forms are provided for download along with instructions
for emailing them in for processing —

( Form: http://bit.ly/frTSn4 [house.gov] ):

Congressman Steve King: http://bit.ly/gqPG5L [house.gov]

Congressman Raul M. Grijalva: http://bit.ly/gQbUyV [house.gov]

Congressman John Kline: http://bit.ly/dUT4YY [house.gov]

And so on.  Search around a bit for yourself — you’ll easily find
others.  In fact, it appears that emailing back the Security Forms —
with absolutely no Internet transit protection for the personal
information included such as SSNs, is the standard mechanism that
Congress is mostly using — and presumably the White House has
approved — for White House tour requests.

If an insurance company, bank, or even a local school were caught
telling persons to submit required personal information such as Social
Security Numbers via easily diverted, observed, and otherwise abused
unencrypted email channels, there would likely be investigations and
hell to pay.

But Congress and the White House — the same entities who presumably
wish to play such important “Cybersecurity” roles, apparently can’t
even handle this basic aspect of Internet security correctly.  Yet
we’re supposed to trust their judgment relating to the creation of a
vast and complex Internet Trusted Identities infrastructure.

It would actually be quite funny — if it weren’t so utterly frightening.

–Lauren–
Lauren Weinstein (lauren@vortex.com)
http://www.vortex.com/lauren
Tel: +1 (818) 225-2800
Co-Founder, PFIR (People For Internet Responsibility): http://www.pfir.org
Founder, NNSquad (Network Neutrality Squad): http://www.nnsquad.org
Founder, GCTIP (Global Coalition for Transparent Internet Performance):
http://www.gctip.org
Founder, PRIVACY Forum: http://www.vortex.com
Member, ACM Committee on Computers and Public Policy
Lauren’s Blog: http://lauren.vortex.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/laurenweinstein
Google Buzz: http://bit.ly/lauren-buzz

Creepy Drug Store Privacy (and how I predicted it)

I had this wonderful rant all queued up about how a major drug store chain has crossed the line into “creepy” with their updated rewards card program. And then I realized that I already predicted this would happen over 20 years ago, and how many privacy advocates are closing the barn door after the cows have already left.

Let’s start with what’s relevant from the rant I had already typed out. Recently, I had the pleasure of having a run-in with a clerk at a national drug store chain. They are getting pretty insistent at signing people up for their “privacy-eliminating marginal discount card”, to the point that I actually got in a small argument with the clerk. The clerk helpfully (?) said something to the extent of “oh, I don’t give them my REAL information…”

As a quick sidebar, I found that personally humorous. Here is a clerk outright telling me that she’s committing an act of fraud against her employer, and all but encouraging me to do the same so I can save a dollar. Wow.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how this particular national chain was going about it all wrong, and how another chain (a national grocery store chain that operates a regional hypermarket.. oh, hell, I’m talking about Fred Meyer) seems to do it right. The differences were all academic, actually, because after thinking about it for a bit I even came to the conclusion that I wasn’t 100% satisfied with how Uncle Freddy does it, either; and there was plenty of privacy implications with the Fred Meyer approach.

So, here’s how the Fred Meyer Rewards program works, and why at first it seems like a much better way than most other loyalty card programs. When you shop at Fred Meyer, regardless of whether or not you have a Rewards card you pay the same price. There’s no “$1 off with our discount card” nonsense* and very few actual gimmicks: at the end of every quarter, they send you a coupon worth a small percentage of that period’s purchases.  They also give you points towards discounted gasoline purchases, and even keep track of purchases at the coffee kiosk for free coffee.

Okay, so that seemed like a better approach.  Until I unearthed a little piece of Commodore 64 code I wrote as a kid on a recent “storage unit spelunking adventure.”

Let’s set the wayback to the 1980’s.  A grocery store chain in Southern California had a novel way of handling checks.  Rather than have the cashiers check a master list for bad checks, or having the (primitive by today’s standards) cash register maintain a list, they had a stand-alone check authorization computer.  It sat in the front of the store, and you had a mag-stripe card that you’d use to get your check “approved” before you went shopping.  This system fascinated me, because it seemed like an elegant hack to an obvious problem.  I envisioned all kinds of wonderfully complicated approaches to granting approval: some probably predicting the fraud detection algorithms used by modern credit card processors to determine “iffy” transactions.

In the end, I simply started writing a small program to do the same thing using the C-64.  I did this mostly as an exercise in creating a simple database system that used CBM’s “REL” files (which were somewhat unreliable and REALLY slow, quite an accomplishment for the slowest disk hardware of any 8-bit micro).  All it did was assign a unique 12-digit number to every “customer”, kept a running tally (in tens of dollars, rounded down) of how much they purchased in a 48-hour period, and had a “bad customer” flag.  And then, I did something back then that today seems… prescient.

The “bad customer” flag was actually one byte in one version, later two.  It started out just being a “if this is present, decline the check” flag.  I then wrote a quick little routine that allowed for four “check customer” states: bad, approve for amount of purchase, approve for cash back, approve for cash only.  Then, somewhere along the line, I got a crazy idea: I added a “customer type” series of bits.  I envisioned initially four customer types: household, commercial, employee, and one I called “geezer”, which in my (then) 14-year-old mind I can interpet to mean “honored citizen” in our modern politically correct vernacular.

The last version of the program I edited took an interesting turn.  I can’t rightly say where I got this idea, but I apparently added a second byte to the field, and added a flag I called in a REM statement “alcoholic”.  In digging through the text file notes on the disk, here was my thinking:

Interesting idea: since the cashier is typing an approval number into the cash register (and we can cross reference the approval number to the check writer), we can probably write something to scan the cash register data at the end of the day and mark a particular customer if they purchase something specific.. say, for example, they buy a beer we can mark a flag that says “this guy buys booze, let’s send this boozehound some coupons for more booze!”  We can write flags for specific department keys or even specific items, and then set the flags at the evening reconcile based upon SKUs purchased or department keys.

I’d be remiss to not point out that this is in 1984.

We already have the makings of a great privacy-violating program right here.  This was on a primitive 8-bit microcomputer with dodgy disk hardware, a very limited BASIC programming language, and an architecture that was great for playing games, not so much for hard-core data processing.

In contrast, now that I have 30 years of computer science under my belt, and much more knowledge of what was available to a regional grocery store chain in 1984; I can see that this would have been trivial to implement using an IBM minicomputer (or, more likely, one of the clones made by NCR and the like) and the COBOL programming language.  It is likely that a minicomputer would have already been driving the cash registers: this is when bar-code scanning at the supermarket was now universal, and many of those point-of-sale systems were driven by some variant of that hardware.  Based upon my memory, I even think the “prototype” that got me thinking about this in 1984 was NCR cash registers.

Recently, a lot of people in the upper echelons of companies like Facebook, Google, and (the former) Sun Microsystems have made statements that all come down to “privacy is irrelevant.”  Looking back at what a kid with a C-64 was able to envision 25 years ago, I now totally understand what those words mean.

Okay, so you can try to live your life without rewards cards, frequent flyer programs, and no Facebook page.  In the end, however, you’re still trackable.

I recently had a conversation with a friend-of-a-friend who works for a regional retailer here in the Pacific Northwest (NOTE: not the aforementioned Fred Meyer).  I won’t mention them by name.  This retailer has a small “frequent shopper” rewards program, and also maintains a pretty impressive customer database and one wicked-cool data warehouse.  In their data warehouse, they can call up any transaction on any day anywhere in the chain in the past 10 years.  If they paid by check, there’s an image of the check.  If they paid by credit card, there’s the signature.  Every part of the transaction was captured.

What I didn’t expect was how much of the data was further mined beyond just what was on the surface.  He then showed me a pilot project that they’ve been working on that is being driven both by the marketing department and the buyers (the people who choose what products the store carries).  What they showed me proves that “privacy is irrelevant.”

They euphemistically call it ‘anonymous capture.’  What ‘anonymous capture’ does is to try to find patterns in non-loyalty transactions that allow them to identify individual customers and their buying habits without having loyalty data.  They claim that as many as 40% of these “anonymous transactions” can actually be identified to individual customers, and by closely analyzing the transactions they can collect the demographics information they are looking for without the loyalty program.

A lot of the way this system actually works is a closely guarded corporate secret.  But it’s all based on the fact that humans are amazingly predictable creatures.

He shows me the purchases of one particular anonymous customer.  He pulls up ten receipts over a two-month period, and explains which items on the receipts probably triggered the algorithm and why.  The algorithm said that these ten purchases are likely the same person: female, married, 30-45 years old, 1 or 2 children, upper-middle class income.  He then pulls a file folder out of his desk drawer of photos from the store surveillance cameras, taken at the time and date of the transactions.

Guess what?  They’re indeed all the same woman.  And in one or two of the stills, you can clearly see her two tweener children, making the age, marital status, and income bracket clearly within what the algorithm predicted.

These were cash transactions.  The system had nothing to go on other than the frequency of the purchases, the items purchased, and the times and dates of the transactions.

Then it got disturbing as he said “let’s go further down the rabbit hole.”  Now, granted, this was a demonstration: this was a repeatable result that my friend knew in advance would work.   But it is still scary.

He starts a process that mines the historical archives, looking for this “profiled customer” to see if he can ever find a name.  Sure enough, at a different store in the chain there was a debit card purchase from this same “customer” (according to the purchase profile), and it was confirmed by looking at store surveillance cameras.  The system predicted a lot more about this person at this point: once you confirmed the link in the software, the system now predicted that she worked near store #2’s location, and that she probably worked in health care.

Friend then showed me a couple of other printouts he had in the file: a Facebook page for the person (likely found by name) that clearly demonstrated these additional facts were true.

One customer, who never filled out a “rewards card application”, but has now been identified just as granularly as if she had handed this chain her Facebook page and said “go nuts.”

“But,” I hear you say, “we had to have a human involved!  Surely, that makes it not practical!”

Nope.  This was just done for this one customer (well, I’d gather, for a statistically relevant subset of customers) to “prove” the system “worked,” or more likely, to get a feel for how frequently the system “didn’t work.”

And that’s where things get a little creepy.  The system works, 100%, for gathering the data they need.

See, all they care about is the fact that this woman’s purchases give them an idea of what a 30-45 year old woman with a moderate income and two kids buys from their store.  To a large degree, even if the woman wasn’t the exact same identifiable woman with a Facebook profile it wouldn’t matter.  They’re looking for the trend, the mean.  The individual doesn’t matter.

And that’s why “creepy drugstore privacy” is a red herring.  Privacy advocates holler about their personal privacy, and they’re thinking that loyalty card programs care about capturing data about the individual. They probably couldn’t care less about you: they only want to know enough about you to figure out what bucket to put you in, and to make sense of your purchase data relevant to that bucket.

At the end of the day, there’s a huge upside to you, the consumer, of all this data mining.  I purchase probably 80% of the things I need at Fred Meyer.  I buy most of my groceries, a lot of my clothing, and all of my medicines.  I purchase the majority of my fuel from Fred Meyer stations now that I live near one.  I buy a small percentage of my media and electronics from there, but enough to give a reasonably clear picture of my entertainment habits.  From this, Uncle Freddy has a pretty clear profile of who I am and what demographics I’m in.  They probably know I’m single and male.  They know from my address I live in a modest apartment complex in a middle-income part of town.  They can probably surmise my income based upon the amount of money I spend in their store, and even what things I buy.  And my fuel purchases (mid-grade unleaded and diesel) gives them some idea that I own two cars, and they could probably accurately determine that one of them is older and/or an import.  They can probably also guess from my purchases in the Euro-food aisle (a unique feature at my Freddy’s that isn’t present at a lot of their stores) that I’m either a gourmand or of central European ancestry (and they’d be wrong there, but how wrong really?).

Point is in how this data is used.  From this data, they have a pretty clear picture of what Fred Meyer needs to do to keep my business.  Or, not keep it, if I’m not a desirable customer.  They can collect all this data from all the customers of their stores, and get a precise laser-guided missile of products to land at the store so that they have what I need at a price I’ll pay, and (perhaps more importantly) nothing I won’t buy.  Shelf space is expensive, demographics are cheap.

There’s a local legend that Fred Meyer (the man) offered to pay parking tickets for anybody who got one while shopping at his downtown store: all they needed to do was turn in the ticket at the Customer Service counter with their sales receipt and they’d be cheerfully refunded.  Meanwhile, he collected all the tickets and discovered exactly WHERE his customers were coming from, and how much they were spending at his store when they came.  Using this data, he opened a store in Portland’s Hollywood district, and became one of the Pacific Northwest’s retail success stories.

In the end, isn’t that a benefit to me?  There are downsides (and that’s a whole different discussion), but in the end, the store is there to serve me the customer.

If Fred Meyer can use the data that I’m diabetic and love chocolate to ensure that they carry more sugar-free chocolate bars, they can have that data.  Mine away, good merchant, mine away.

*: There is a system where you can load coupons onto your Rewards card and you will get the preferred pricing at checkout. At the moment, this feature seems under-marketed: it seems more like a perk for getting you to check the website than a feature of the Rewards card program, but it remains to be seen how aggressively they will market this in the future..