Once upon a time, I was targeted. As in “target-market” targeted. Stores carried clothes, shoes, cosmetics that were “targeted” to the likes of me. I was of an age when retailers, advertisers and marketers wanted my business. Happily, I could afford a little more than the bare necessities. Ergo, I was an economically attractive “target-market.”
Now, some many years later, I’m in a different target-market. All manner of aids are now thrown at me. Hearing aids, walking-aids, health aids and more. Not quite as much fun as the other, sexier, market. But a viable one, none the less.
Now, just when I thought I’d run the gamut of being targeted, there’s Covid. Or more appropriately put, the hoped-for-absence of Covid. Collectively, we want it gone. Good-bye and good riddance. The sooner the better. So, we eagerly await a vaccine, targeted directly at that nasty bug.
But while we wait, other responses to eradicate Covid bubble up. One of those is “herd immunity” which, in its simplest terms, is designed to kill off the weak and enable the strong.
And Boom! With that, we have a brand new “target market.” And I’m right-smack-dab-in-the-middle of it. Directly in the crosshairs. .
The problem is that, with age, I may not be as healthy as I once was. I could have immunity issues. Just ask the Foot about my bones. As a result, I may be a reluctant target for that down side of herd immunity. And that really pisses me off.
I refuse to go down that path easily. I will not go lightly into that dark hole. I’m pretty sure there’s another, happier, target-market out there waiting just for me. I don’t know what it is but I surely plan to be there.
Critter in cross hairs drawing by Dan Nelson