By Samantha Stone
“What’s the purpose of scanning my driver’s license?” I always asked the medical receptionist.
“We have to be able to prove that the person receiving the services is insured,” she would tell me.
“Well, this is a fee-for-service transaction,” I’d reply. “I’m paying for it myself. If – God forbid – we discover today that I require extensive treatment, I will turn over every bit of information you need,” I promised. “But for now, the answer is no.”
More than once, a receptionist called an office manager to deal with me.
“How do you store the scan?” I’d ask the office manager.
“It’s in our system,” she would say. “Nobody has access to it.”
“How is your system secured?”
“We have a firewall,”
“Yes, I’m sure you do, but how is your electronic data secured?”
No matter what they said, I always went deeper, and I always won.
That was before my catastrophic care policy was rendered illegal by the Affordable Care Act. Now, Obamacare has defeated me in my quest for digital privacy and security, but I still put up a fight. I will lose, but it’s important to resist the data collectors.
If I don’t protest, it won’t occur to these people that they have no right to my personal information; that they aren’t adequately securing it (trust me, they aren’t); and that they are placing me in jeopardy, through a combination of acquiescence and negligence.
When the retail cashier asks if I’m a discount club member, I say no.
“If you can afford to give me a discount, then just give it to me. Why do I have to turn over my email address and phone number?” I ask.
Yes, they often, they say yes, it’s true. They have a fake membership card they can swipe, and I get the discount anyway. But if they don’t – even if I pay fifteen cents more for a bottle of nail polish remover, I will not turn over any personal information. Is it fair? No. Is it the right thing to do? Yes, it is.
I once brought a DMV employee to the edge of a breakdown, and I don’t say that with any pride. I’m not just a jackass who enjoys a power struggle with a public employee.
“Why do you need my mother’s maiden name to issue me a driver’s license?”’
It’s a reasonable question. My mother’s name is the key to my bank account, and I wonder what assurance it provides that I can safely negotiate a crowded freeway. He couldn’t give me a reasonable answer, and I so pressed harder, and ultimately, he couldn’t look me in th eye.
The poor man had to call his supervisor. The supervisor and I went back into history to look at my previous driver’s license applications – yes, they’re stored for years – to see what information was included back in the day, before there was Real ID.
The supervisor offered me a choice. Certainly, he said, you can withhold my mother’s maiden name (and other information I suggested has no place in their possession).
“Thank you,” I said. “I understand what you’re saying. I can withhold, but you will withhold my license renewal.”
“That’s right,” he replied. He was very pleasant, though.
“So please pass along to management that I’ve registered a protest,” I said, and he agreed to do it. Yeah, right.
It’s crazy. You can’t even open an account with NV Energy or other utilities unless you turn over your social security number. Ten years ago, you could just pay an extra deposit, and withhold the personal data. I know, because I did it. A hundred to the power company, a hundred to the water company, a hundred to Waste Management. It was expensive, but I withheld my personal identifiers, and it gave me peace of mind.
Now, you could offer them your dead mother’s 10-carat engagement ring, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t open these accounts without providing a social security number.
I protest anyway, and you should too. Make no mistake, it’s a lonely fight. It’s inconvenient, and it’s expensive, and it’s exhausting. But we can’t go through life handing out personal information to anybody who asks, all day long, without conducting a bit of consciousness raising. It sends the wrong message, and from a practical standpoint, it’s stupid.
Note to data collectors: If you need to find me, you can. My car is traced, my license plate is scanned, my phone is traced, my credit cards are traced, and there are cameras everywhere measuring my facial features. Don’t worry. you’re in control, even without my social security number.
