The Grocer — November, 2004
Monday –
Dave: "Would you like to try a free 6-month subscription to Sports Illustrated, Rolling Stone, Esquire, or National Geographic?"
Chris: "No."
Dave: "But, it’s free. Why wouldn’t you…"
Chris: "No."
Dave: "All right then, you’re all set. Thank you for shopping at Best Buy."
Chris: "Thanks."
Tuesday –
Lisa: "Are you a Barnes and Noble Book Club Member?"
Chris: "No thank you."
Lisa: "But, it’s only five dollars a year and you get fabulous discounts on member specials and…"
Chris: "No. Thank you. Really."
Lisa: "Sorry, I have to ask."
Chris: "Don’t worry about it."
Wednesday –
Kyle: "Do you have your Super Club Savings Card with you today?"
Chris: "Yup. Here she goes."
Kyle: "Man, you eat a lot of peanut butter."
Chris: "Yeah, I do. Don’t I?"
Kyle: "Yeah, you do. You’re all set, though. Thanks."
Chris: "See you next week, man."
Thursday –
Katie: "Dr. Alda’s office, may I help you?"
Chris: "Yes, I’m calling to see if my lab work has returned yet."
Katie: "I’m sorry; we don’t have your HIPPA Privacy Agreement on file. I can’t disclose any of that information to you until we have one on file."
Chris: "What do you mean you can’t release MY lab work results to me?"
Katie: "Well, HIPPA does not allow us to disclose any information about you to you until you’ve signed a HIPPA Privacy Agreement and a copy of our Notice Of Privacy Practices. Sorry."
Friday -
I know I can’t be the only person seeing what’s going on here, but I’m going to rant about it anyway.
The federal government, under Public Law 104-191 (HIPPA) Section 1177 (a & b), allows for the following penalties when protected health information is disclosed:
Incidental or intentional disclosure:
$50,000 fine or 1 year in prison or both
Intentional disclosure with deceit:
$100,000 fine or 5 years in prison or both
Malicious disclosure or disclosure for profit:
$250,000 fine or 10 years in prison or both
And for the record, protected health information is any piece of identifying information that could possibly associate you with you, or any piece of your health history. Your date of birth, protected. Your first name, protected. The color of your eyes, protected. Your shoe size, protected. Your middle initial, all by itself, protected. I’m not kidding.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have the entirety of my health history disclosed to the whole world than even parts of my credit history to my most distant acquaintance. And, in this light, let’s revisit the previous 4 days.
On Monday, Dave offers me an ostensibly ‘free’ 6-month subscription to one of several fine periodical publications. But, Dave’s ‘free’ isn’t as free as it sounds. In exchange for 6 free months of reading pleasure, I’m likely giving away the rights to my entire purchase and credit history at Best Buy to anyone they wish to sell it to. Yes, sell. Or, at the very least, my contact information will be made available to any and all purchasers of said information that may offer products or services with which I may be interested. Yes, purchase.
On Tuesday, Lisa wanted me to join the book club, whereupon Barnes and Noble could begin tracking my purchase history, learning more about me from this alone that most people I know ever will. And, of course, they’ll offer up to anyone who will purchase it my contact information, tastes, propensities, interests, hobbies, favorite bands, and relationship status (the self-help aisle).
On Wednesday, I offer up my discount card at the grocery store because I save $11.17 on $82.53 worth of groceries – which is significant – and part of my purchase goes to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. But, here’s the clincher for anyone who uses a grocery store discount card: your grocer knows more about you than your doctor, and your grocer can sell this information. Face it – your grocer knows that you need Metamucil. He knows you’re on a diet. He knows the man of the house has hemorrhoids and the lady of the house thinks she might be pregnant. The week of your menstrual period is no secret to the inventory manager at Pick ‘n’ Save, and she knows your hemorrhoidal husband’s got athletes’ foot too.
So, if between the electronics guy, the book seller, and the grocer my frailties, faults, ailments, fetishes, and secrets are available to anyone that’s willing to pay, why is it a federal crime for me to know myself that my cholesterol is getting a little high? I don’t get it. We disclose more to the anonymous world in one week than we do to some of our closest friends in a lifetime. Yet, the fact that I had ringworm in boot camp is protected behind the legislative Wall of China.
So, my frustration with Thursday should be no surprise in light of the fact that pimply Tim at Circuit City knows that I am a hopeless computer geek in desperate need of something to do on Friday nights.
Well, that’s all I’ve got time for right now. I’ve got to go. I need some peanut butter.
~ topher