Just Ask Me - February, 2007

“Do you have osteoporosis?” asked the woman on the phone.

“No,” I replied.

“Oh,” she intoned, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Do you take insulin for your diabetes?” she inquired.

“No, just oral medication,” I explained.

“Good,” she said, a bit more cheerily. “We are booked for our diabetes study on Monday, but we’ll call you if there is a cancellation. It pays $150,” she added, a smile in her voice.

See, I thought signing up to participate in market research panels would be a fun way to make money while giving my opinion to strangers. I was always happy to give my opinion to anyone for free, and this represented an opportunity to get PAID for it, which is all the more appealing.

We started off with promise, as a call came in with many questions about purchasing greeting cards. I’m perfect for that study, since I could keep Hallmark in business single-handedly. So when they offered $100 to shop for six cards from three stores and participate in a two-hour panel to discuss them, I jumped at the chance. It was fun. I got to see new cards, rate the ones I would and wouldn’t buy and explain why, and I walked away with $100 cash (plus the cost of the cards) for my efforts, which seemed like easy money for someone who loves to shop.

I looked forward to deep discussions on the effectiveness of dish detergents, to debating flavored vs. regular breadcrumbs, to creating a dialog on Coke vs. Pepsi (the Holy Grail of market research). Instead, after the greeting cards, I’m being steered into more age-appropriate panels. I guess I have reached that demographically undesirable stage of life where no one (except the AARP) cares what I watch on TV, listen to on the radio or see at the movies. I thought the fact that I don’t have osteoporosis was good news, but apparently not to a market research company eager to sign up women my age who suffer from a variety of different ailments. (Once you reach your mid-fifties, everyone either has something, is married to someone who has something or knows someone who has something. The operative word is SOMETHING.)

And while I do have all too many somethings, apparently I don’t have the right somethings to participate in every market research study. Maybe someone will drop out of the diabetes study, or maybe they will need the opinion of a woman in her 50s on “heart-healthy” cereals. Otherwise, I see a future full of opportunities to opine on denture creams, stool softeners and long-term care insurance. Thank goodness, I have no opinions on any of these subjects – at least, not yet.

All I know is that if they want someone with moisturizing experience, I’m ready!