Selling tales

This evening, whilst looking at Facebook, I came across a 'Suggested Post' in my timeline. It was for a job. In a hotel. In Cumbria. I'm not currently looking for a new job, I don't live anywhere near Barrow, and I have no experience of working in the hospitality industry. So the idea of this post being in any way an actual suggestion is, quite frankly, ludicrous.

In these technologically advanced times, advertising (because no matter what you call it, that's what it is) has got more sophisticated and creative. When Sky Atlantic launched the most recent series of 'Mad Men', the first ad break consisted of adverts from the 1950s. The final episode of the first series of the excellent French spooky drama 'The Returned' on Channel 4 featured an ad break where all the adverts had French subtitles. Touches like this show that advertisers and marketeers know what they're doing - we are constantly being targeted by companies who want us to wear, buy, eat their stuff.

And this is my problem. There is this need by companies to appear to be tailoring things, finding the right demographic. Now I have no objection to any company trying to sell me stuff I might actually want, nor do I object to people just trying to sell to anyone. What really annoys me is people telling me they've thought about what I'm interested in, when they clearly haven't. Why spend thousands of pounds finding out what I like, and then disregarding that information? If you're going to bother, do it properly.

Ooh a recommendation! You think I might like this particular book because I bought a book by the same author a while ago. That's really nice, but I paid for it to be gift wrapped and had it delivered to a different address...which would suggest that the book wasn't actually for me (yes Mr Evil Amazon, I'm talking about you).

My husband and I have just bought a flat. Registering with estate agents is a case in point. They ask you questions: how many bedrooms, what's your maximum budget, what area are you looking at? They then send you alerts full of amazing properties that don't match the criteria. There is one agency in particular that send texts with my name inserted, clearly presuming that I'm stupid enough to think that I really am the only person they want to sell a flat to.
Do you know what? Just send me everything, I can filter it myself.

There is apparently a company that has come up with an algorithm  that profiles you by analysing your Facebook 'Likes'. That's all very clever, but just reading my posts over the last few months would probably build a more accurate profile...

...which brings me back to this 'Suggested Post' nonsense. Suggested by and for whom? Not me.
Companies are paying for their products to be presented to me in the hope that I will buy them. That's ok. If I like what I see, I might buy something. If I don't, I won't. You have all this information about me and yet you choose not to use it. That's up to you, but don't pretend you have me in mind. You don't. Don't pretend that my buying habits mean I'm your target. I'm not. And please, for the love of god, call a spade a spade. It is NOT a suggestion. It's advertising.

XL

As I get older, birthdays generally become less significant. But this week, I turn 40. I'm actually quite excited to be 40, it sounds ever so grown up! I'm not the sort of woman who frets over her age - to be honest, if I were that bothered, I could tell people I was 35...I could easily get away with it - but it is fascinating to think that I have lived pretty much half of my life. Already!

Clearly, the greatest change in my life has been having a daughter. I can now no longer guarantee being on time for anything, and I am never surprised if someone politely points out that I appear to have an Angelina Ballerina sticker on my jacket.
I worried that parenthood might make me neurotic, all that worrying about a little person who completely and totally depends on you. But not so. Is it because of my age? Is it because she had a difficult start, arriving 10 weeks early? Or is because I know I will spend the rest of my natural life worrying about her, so why start now? Who knows, but I'm pretty sure I've been like this throughout my thirties.

For me, I was truly comfortable with who I am once I got to my thirties. And I'm really looking forward to many more decades of doing what works for me and ignoring people around me if I don't value them.
And that's another thing - value. I really think I've learnt about the value of things these past 10 years: of friendship; of time; of sleep; of a half decent bottle of wine...

The older you get, birthdays aren't just about looking forward, they're also about looking back. So here, in celebration of entering my forties, and in no particular order, is what I got up to in my thirties. Obviously, the list isn't comprehensive, but I feel it is representative...

1. Bought a flat
2. Got married
3. Had a baby
4. Wore false eyelashes for the first time
5. Went to a friend's wedding. Their second one
6. Got made redundant
7. Appeared on a quiz show. On the telly
8. Ran a half-marathon

I also learned a few things; mainly, that very few situations are not made better by the addition of one, some or all of the following: gin, pink wine, fizzy wine, tea, red lipstick.
But the biggest lesson I've learned? No matter how many times someone says you look great for 40, it NEVER gets old.

Cinematic delights

So Gracie and I went to the cinema. Aside from the Parent and Baby screenings that we went to when I was on maternity leave, we've been to the cinema three times now. That's not many times, I grant you, but Gracie tends not to be the sort of toddler that sits still when required.
Our first visit was rather something: a premiere screening of The Croods. Not bad for a first cinematic experience. The only problem with this of course was that, on our second visit, not only did Gracie expect her friend Lily to be there to meet her, she also expected face painting and free snacks...
That aside, the second visit was fine. Because it was Toddler Time, it was £3 for Gracie's ticket. As the accompanying adult, I go free. The film was half an hour long, perfect for her attention span - well, it would have been had they not started the film about 10 minutes early, but you can't win 'em all...
Which brings us to our third, and most recent, visit. A very reasonable £1.75 a ticket meant that I didn't object to paying £3.25 for popcorn, biscuits and a drink for Gracie. To be fair, the cinema did also throw in a couple of free white chocolate buttons. Well, I say "throw in" - Gracie actually just helped herself, and asking her to put them back isn't very hygienic. The film was an hour and a half, so Gracie did well. After three trips though, I can see that she still has a lot to learn about cinema-going:
1. Just because a trailer is more than 30 seconds long, this does not make it a film in its own right.
2. A quiet bit does not necessarily mean that it is the end of the film, especially when you're only a couple of minutes in.
3. Boring bits aren't more interesting if you watch them upside down.
4. Not every film would be improved by the presence of Tinkerbell.
5. Just because a female character is dressed in purple, it doesn't automatically follow that her name is Rapunzel.
I don't know, maybe I'm expecting too much. I guess I'm just going to have to keep on taking her...