Dear Unsubscribe, Why can’t I get through to you? No matter how often I check your box, you keep bringing your pushy friends to my door: fundraising appeals from people running for office all over the country; one-time-only offers from gyms (oops, you got your demographic wrong on that one); wrenching pleas from nonprofits I’ve never heard of; special sales for things I don’t want; and constant newsletters from a car dealer I haven’t visited in years. Like a boyfriend who keeps calling after the breakup, you just won’t take no for an answer. I know I could keep slamming the door in your face by hitting Delete, but I want you to leave town and disappear without a data-trace. Sure, you promise that I’ll never hear from you again, that you’re out of my life forever, but a few days later, you’re back with the promise of 25% off something, the lure of two pizzas for the price of one or a warning that unless I donate $10, democracy will die. If those tactics don’t work, you know how to pull on my heartstrings, thanks to Google analytics. There’s always an endangered river to save, starving puppies to rescue and underfunded, underdog politicians to support. No matter how many times I check your box and say, yes, I’m sure I don’t want to receive any more promotions, urgent offers or marketing materials, you pretend you don’t hear me. How about weekly emails instead of daily, you ask? That’s when I throw up my hands and accept that you’re my own personal Hotel California hell — I can opt-out but never leave. XOXO Nikki
