A couple of months ago, I wrote a column bemoaning my treatment at the hands of a major bank. (Why did I feel compelled to say ‘major bank’? This country, to its everlasting discomfort, only has major banks.)

The subject of my rant was ancient and common. The bank refused to treat me like an individual, despite my stubborn insistence that I am one, and also despite their incessant paid messages outlining how much they care. In fact, in an unrelated matter, the same bank screwed up my accounts in so many different ways that a bank executive muttered at me, ‘We oughta send you a gift basket or something.’ Damn delivery companies are terrible, the basket never arrived.

Yeah, well, modern life is tough, but you get used to it. In late November, when Air Canada Jazz rolled out three planes over three-and-a-half hours before they found one that worked, I barely whimpered. I checked into my Philadelphia hotel at 2:30 a.m., but hey, that’s okay, they gave me a free scotch.

So you could have knocked me over with a feathered engine when a personal letter arrived a few days later from Air Canada Jazz. It began, ‘This letter follows in apology for your unexpected experience…’ and proceeded to describe my ordeal in accurate detail. It apologized three more times, reminded me of their concern for my safety, and then gave me 2500 Aeroplan points ‘as a gesture of…concern for your inconvenience.’

I glowed for two days. Seriously. Somebody, somewhere, (thank you, Lana Steele of Customer Advocacy in London, ON) had taken the trouble to contact me, unsolicited, with something that wasn’t a form letter.

Yes, I know it was damage control. Yes, I know that it cited my Elite Aeroplan status, and less frequent flyers probably didn’t get the nice letter. I don’t care. A big company temporarily knew I existed!!!

I don’t think I’m an extraordinary softie. I don’t think I’m unaware of how complex it is to run a bank or an airline. I think, actually, that I’m pretty representative of the reasonably upscale general public. So, Big Company World, if you can get me to glow so long, so easily…why the hell don’t you do it more often?

Let me give another negative example. I have carried an American Express card for 35 years. Membership is supposed to have its privileges, and man, do they try to unload those privileges upon me. They send me solicitations for Gold Cards, Platinum Cards, Corporate Cards, Small Business Cards, Companion Cards, Air Miles Cards, Optima Cards, and Tiger Woods Cards. They obviously have a pretty clear idea where I live.

Have they ever, in those 35 years, sent me something personal? Well, yes, they have. I was once out of the country for two months, missed a couple of payments, and yes, as a matter of fact, they began to get very personal. That’s it.

How easy it would have been for Amex to write the following: ‘Dear Mr. Burghardt, we notice that you’ve now been a member for 25 years, that’s real nifty, here are a couple of nickels in your Membership Rewards Account.’ It wouldn’t have been the nickels, it would have been the temporary recognition of me as a human being among the crowd. Didn’t happen at 25 years, didn’t happen at 30 years, and I don’t give them real great odds for coming through at 35.

The point is, today we have the technology! Data banks know every damn thing about me! Companies can find me through my mailbox, my telephone, my fax machine, my computer, my pet TV shows, my favorite radio station, hell, next week there may be a message in my underwear drawer. Why does it so astound me, then, that Air Canada Jazz wrote me about some troubles I had??!!

Sadly, the answer is that corporations don’t want to bother to treat me as an individual, even though they could if they tried. They just want to sell me stuff. Well, folks, this is a thought that’s been around since the dawn of humanity, but here it is: if you want me to put out for you, it helps if you stroke me first.

John Burghardt’s checkered resume includes the presidency of a national agency, several films for the Shah’s government in Iran, collaboration with Jim Henson to create the Cookie Monster, and a Cannes Gold Lion. The letterhead of his thriving business now reads ‘STRATEGIC PLANNING * CREATIVE THINKING.’ He can be reached by phone at (416) 693-5072 or by e-mail at burgwarp@aol.com.