By Les Linz
It has been nearly five decades since I gave my first sermon. The congregation raved. It was 7 minutes.
Though short (both me and the message), I managed to make a point or two and focused on the age-old sibling rivalry of Esau and Jacob. Talk about dysfunctional. That was one messed-up family.
Dad favored the firstborn, while “Junior junior” was the kind of offspring Martha Stewart and Julia Child would have fought to the death over for the right to call son.
Today, Esau would be spotted at Bass Pro Shops, and Jacob would frequent the likes of Crate and Barrel. While Jacob would be vice president of the local 4-H club and head of their wrestling team, his older twin would be the rugged card-carrying spokesperson for the NRA (having narrowly beat out Moses for the title).
The younger of the two, whose name means “deceiver,” had more in his bag of tricks than Felix the Cat, but as egregious as stealing the familial blessing intended for another was (with mom’s help), his first theft of renown had a more unexpected accomplice: The “victim” himself.
Esau came in from the field famished one day. Depending on the source you look to, he had either had a fruitless hunt or been hunted himself, alleged to have killed the Emperor Nimrod. Either way, he was “faint” and ready to die from hunger.
Chef Jacob was in the process of cooking up a mean pot of lentil stew and a heavenly loaf of home-baked bread, so when the eldest returned to the tent, he asked for some. Jacob said, “Sure, but not so fast, bro. Sell me your birthright. Then you can eat,” to which he replied, “I’m about to die. What good is a birthright to me now? Okay, it’s yours. Now, hand over the grub.” And he did.
Birthright speaks to various issues, including who gets what in the will. In essence, it’s the bundle of privileges you have because of who you are.
Don’t be too quick in judging Esau for selling his. We sell ours all of the time, though not because we’re faint from hunger. I speak of our regular surrender to accepting the electronic terms and conditions on various websites and phone apps.
Terms and conditions and privacy policies, Oh my!
We subject ourselves to bondage daily.
Just this morning, I almost did it to myself, and I know better than most. A skilled customer service representative asked me to evaluate her performance when I get an email from her employer to that effect.
My reading ability has taught me how completing the task gives the company permission to do everything but sell my firstborn (hint: When skilled employees ask me to do that, I tell them, “No,” but I’ll gladly give a kudos to your supervisor, for which they’re always grateful).
Should that be? In a perfect, consumer-centric world, no. Unfortunately, we don’t live in one, even though we make up the majority of world population. So what’s a consumer to do? Be on guard.
Read carefully
That’s funny.
Companies intimate they care more about you than the parents that changed your diapers, the teachers that taught you to think and the IRS that watches your every move.
Because they tell you they can change terms and conditions at any time, to which you agree to be bound — because they explain that’s why you need to check back with the site periodically to see to what degree your bondage has changed, it’s obvious they have your best interest at heart, so take their advice and muddle through the feigned concern and clarity.
Disclaimer
One of the first things I learned in paralegal training was there’s what’s known as “Implied Warrant of Merchantability,” which in essence states that something does what it purports to. It does as you would expect.
The corporate treatment of the “warrant” is this: Information on the site may or may not be accurate (a comfort, I’m sure). As an additional bonus, if your device gets messed up because of it, you can incur the cost of repair all by your lonesome.
Liability limitations
The terms, descriptions and definitions within the site are “not intended to be complete” (standard site verbiage). Booboos happen, and when they do, it’s not their fault. We, nor others, should rely on the conditions, though we should check back from time to time to see how we are further bound by things that may or may not be accurate.
Don’t listen to that. Rely on this: If it benefits the company regardless of your inconvenience, count on it.
Arbitration
You agree to be bound to a mediator for any legal or quasi-legal issue that may come up. In other words, you can’t take the company to court, per se. You (and the company) will usually split the cost of mediation (how big of them, seeing as they have the smaller pockets), but the arbitration locale will be at or near the corporate home base (Note to self: Only tangle with tropically headquartered companies).
Third party content
This is probably my favorite.
The site may provide one or more links to other “partners” (Those they contract with to “benefit” you with additionally available services). Of course they are not responsible for the links, even if they become corrupted, or if they are corrupt from the onset, as in phony links that mock legitimate sites to steal your information.
And speaking of stealing
Ever “like” something?
When you do, you typically give up control and that of your “friends,” as well. Huh? Yep.
Many a site’s terms and conditions and “privacy” descriptions explain that when you “like” something they post on social media, whether it’s germane or cutesy, they automatically get your friends list. Do they then examine who or what your friends are like so they can sell the information to other “partners” because they care so much about providing quality links to improve your experience? Possibly. My point: Why chance it?
The rest of the story
There are too many “terms and conditions” to simply address in one column. I’ve just hit a few lowlights.
If you’d like, check out “Consumer Cash: Wisdom About Extended Warranties” from the Amazon Kindle Store by Les Linz. The 3,800-word article is available either for free or 99 cents, based on the type of Kindle account you have.
Stopping the Jacobs in your life
Subjecting ourselves to the deceivers of life is a choice we make. Ridding ourselves of the corporate Jacobs is up to us. Take time — read — and take back your birthright, the one you and I have been willingly giving away.
Les Linz of Seymour writes the “Humor: More or Les” column. For information about Linz, visit his amazon.com author page. Send comments to [email protected].