Don't Snicker: The groceries and
sneakers are watching
By Beth Teitell
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Now I really understand
why the Boston school bus drivers union threatened job action if the city slaps
tracking devices on their vehicles.
Today - buses full of kindergarteners. Tomorrow
- my pint of Ben & Jerry's.
Yesterday, the makers of Viagra and OxyContin said
they will add radio transmitters to their bottles to fight counterfeiting, and
experts see the technology taking off from there. It could be used to track lost
luggage, fight cargo theft, even speed grocery checkout.
Worthy aims, all, but at what cost?
It's a slippery slope from tailing Lipitor and pallets
of aluminum siding to stalking your sweat pants from the Gap and Dunkin' Donuts
binge.
I can already foresee technology abuse: Feeling
bloated, you're heading out for your day when you hear a voice from on high. ``You're
not going to services in those, are you?''
Or you'll stop on the way to work and buy a dozen,
ostensibly for your co-workers, and a beeping chip will lead them to the box,
empty and licked clean, in a garbage can behind the store, with a napkin smeared
with your DNA and powdered sugar.
Or Nike will start adding the tags to their sneakers,
and when the signal doesn't move from under your bed for weeks, you'll get a call:
``Why aren't you on your way to the gym? You certainly
paid enough for that membership.''
You know, I'm not even sure if I want the technology
invading the grocery store. I'm speaking as someone who hates standing in line,
but more importantly, as a person who occasionally samples the bulk candy.
I can hear the voice over the loudspeaker now, as
the Swedish Fish in my small intestine start to whine. ``Ma'am, please get your
hands out of the bins. And that will be 11 cents, please.''
And where will it end? I just read about an X-ray
machine at London's Heathrow Airport that sees through passengers' clothes. That's
the last thing I need - to be snagged wearing a body shaper on a romantic getaway
with my husband.
I was ranting about what an invasive world we live
in, when a friend pointed out the radio tags do have an upside:
``There you are, your car having plunged down the
embankment and pinning you beneath,'' she said. ``You lie there, helpless, but
what's this? A rescue team? Yes! they have followed the distress signal emitted
from your Snickers bar.''
Unless my Nikes rat me out first for driving instead
of walking.
