Seasonal

     I am a marketer’s dream.

     I buy citrus brews in the summer, pumpkin ale in the fall, and any six pack that mentions snow, log cabins, or ‘holiday spices’ in the winter. Just as the trees begin to bud, the giant images of young models frolicking on the beach down Fifth Avenue remind me that I really should get a new bathing suit. And I always forget how much I love fast food breakfast sandwiches until I see that I can buy one, get one free.

     Sold!

     The ability of advertisers to pinpoint the moment of connection between my physical desires and my wallet is truly uncanny. When so many of my preferences feel elusive, the organized presentation of suitable options provides a sickly artificial yet welcomed relief. Whether it’s celebrity endorsements or chain restaurant logos placed next to menu items, I find solace in the illusion that I am making a justifiable choice.

     A hair stylist once told me that I should stop using a popular brand of anti-dandruff shampoo every day because the chemicals likely dry out my hair, and could even be contributing to my suspiciously receding hairline.

     “That can’t be true,” I concluded on my walk home. “Sofia Vergara is in the commercials.”

     I use Jennifer Aniston’s face wash, Stephen Curry’s water filter, and Tina Fey’s credit card. What could possibly go wrong?

     My lone point of pride lies in my ability to resist the packs of gum and tabloid magazines at the grocery store checkout counter. While I may take a lingering glance at the headlines, I know there’s no way to justify spending $5.95 on what is essentially twenty pages of the internet. And as for the gum, that remains in that special category of inevitably reoccurring expenses I can’t afford to assume right now, right next to Uber rides and food delivery.

     Any habit, given the time, becomes expensive.

     That’s why having only one product per season, one message at a time, is perfect for me. I will gladly hold my mouth wide open to catch the runoff at the bottom of an unfathomably extensive trickle-down chain of market research. That way, I don’t have to think about what kind of beer I like. I am told.

     And sometimes being told what I like is the most satisfying option of all.