“Picture it…quarantine 2020!”
I’ll be the first to tell you that targeted ads don’t work on me. Try as they might, my tastes are too eclectic. Plus, I thoroughly enjoy reporting ads that come across my social media pages. They don’t even have to be repetitive; I’ll report those suckers for daring to define me as a person. The notion that companies have, apparently, paid money to headhunt buyers like myself is incredibly creepy and irritating.
Bev grabbed the phone with hesitation and dialed the only number she knew by heart. “I think he’s cheating on me.” Nella sighed on the other end of the phone, “Really…Bev, are you sure? No offense, but you married my snooze-fest of a brother, someone who goes birding any chance he gets. Are you sure he’s not out somewhere or maybe he discovered a new bird?” Bev, clinging to the phone even tighter, scoffed “Um lady, that’s just it, he hasn’t been going. That weird guy with the long fingernails, Matt, keeps messaging me on any platform he can find me on, ‘Where’s Derek? When’s Derek coming back? Haven’t seen Derek around. . . The California Rail is in decline, does Derek know this?’ I can’t keep answering for him.”