Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Survey This!

My wife and I recently received a postcard proclaiming
that we had been specially selected.
No, it wasn't yet another offer for yet another credit
card, the type that's worded in such a way that you think
perhaps the credit card company wants to pay you. Nor did the
postcard say that we were about to receive the latest
Victoria's Secret catalog with their latest antigravity
undergarments.
The postcard was from the Nielsen television survey
people. Their uncompromising commitment to quality had caused
them to select our household as a possible participant in
their next TV Ratings Survey.
Near as I can tell, these standards have exactly two
parts. A person must:
A: own a TV, and
B: be breathing.
This supposition is based on the fact that my wife and I
do not have what one might call a "media rich" household. We
live out here in the boonies, where cable TV is but a fairy
tale, a fantasy from the realm of unicorns and leprechauns.
I once tried to assemble a homemade mini-dish satellite
antenna by marrying a concaved pizza pan to the guts of a
discarded microwave oven. The system didn't expand our TV
entertainment, but it was certainly entertaining to watch
birds vaporize whenever they flew past the pizza pan.
Our rickety rooftop antenna gets exactly five channels.
We can pull in maybe one or two more on a good day, but only
if my wife holds the antenna cable in one hand and a wire
coat hanger in the other as she stands on one foot on a chair
that's been placed near a window. It helps if she also wears
an aluminum foil helmet.
I explained all this to the Nielsen lady when she called
to see if we were willing to be part of their survey. None of
it seemed to faze her, which, to my mind, immediately made
the survey somewhat suspect. All they wanted was an average
household from our area, she said.
A few days later the postman brought us a large and
official-looking envelope. Inside was our official Nielsen TV
Diary -- along with five crisp new one-dollar bills!
"Lookit this!" I said to my wife as I fanned the cash.
"Who says it doesn't pay to be average?"
"Wow," she replied dryly, "All that money and mediocrity
too. Well, you can keep the cash since you're the one who
volunteered to keep the diary. I don't want the
responsibility."
Responsibility! I hadn't thought about that part! Being
a Nielsen Survey Household means our personal viewing choices
will affect what networks can charge for their ads! The stuff
we watch could very well put some corporation out of business
or cause some actor's career to be dashed upon the rocks!
Cool!
Freighted with this weighty knowledge, I began keeping
my viewing diary with all due seriousness. One evening, my
solemn duties were rudely interrupted by a shaking motion.
"Wake up!" said my wife. "I don't think it's fair to
Nielsen people for you to sleep while watching TV! At the end
of the evening, you won't be able to recall what was on."
She was right; it wasn't fair. I was then struck by a
brilliant idea, one that would greatly increase the
efficiency of my TV diary-keeping.
"What are you doing?" my wife asked the next evening as
I scribbled furiously.
"I'm just filling out my TV diary a bit ahead of time."
"That's not what I mean. I hate 'The Simpsons' and I
don't want the Nielsen people to think I would watch that
junk! Why can't you put us down for 'Masterpiece Theatre'?"
"If you'll recall, I watched the entirety of 'Jane Eyre'
with you and there wasn't anything the least bit masterful or
theatric about it! Jane wasn't involved in a single gun
fight! There weren't even any car chases!"
This lead to a frank discussion of my viewing habits,
which caused to me miss most of "The Family Guy".
I put us down for watching it anyway. That might be a
tad dishonest, but tough noodles. If the Nielsen people don't
like it they can just come out to our house and ask for their
money back.
This means they'll have to ring our doorbell, which is
located right below that concaved pizza pan.

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