Of dead fish and stickers

The noxious green plastic package arrived in early January and sits on my desk like a dead fish. My tax return, needless to say.

Perhaps to compensate, I have been reading my other mail more carefully. Fascinating things, those gas bills. And the mail I have been reading most thoroughly (I insist, I do have a life, of some sort) comes from Reader’s Digest.

You probably know what I’m referring to. One day, you receive a big brown envelope addressed personally to you by Mel Wretched, vice-president of reader sales, advising you that you have been ‘pre-qualified’ for a grand prize draw of $1 million. You don’t have to buy a subscription to enter (although that would make his sainted mother proud); all you have to do is seal the attached ‘certificate of entitlement’ stickers to the back of the ‘official acknowledgement’form, and return it within three weeks. You think, what the heck, I’ll gamble a stamp on becoming a millionaire. And from then on, you’re a fish caught on a lure.

A month later, you get another package emblazoned with phrases such as ‘priority delivery’ and ‘urgent: open and reply immediately’. This letter, from Mona Lisa Teresa, contest administrator, advises me that my winning numbers have been reserved, and all that I have to do is return a ‘certified status notification’ form along with my ‘guaranteed eligibility’ certificate and my ‘confirmation of standing’ sticker within two weeks, otherwise I am out of the hunt. “I’m talking to you, D. SIMMONDS of WELLINGTON, ONTARIO. Imagine how stupid you willl feel if your neighbour down the street wins the big prize and you don’t because you were too cynical to mail in your forms.”

So I do it, partly for the thrill of the risk, partly because I would indeed feel pretty stupid if Farnsworthy down the street did win it, and partly because the only way I can justify wasting my time putting stickers on forms instead of reading Margaret Atwood is by winning the big one.

I then brace for the next wave, and the next. At some point, I fold and become a subscriber. After a while, the encounter transforms into a battle of wits with the Reader’s Digest marketing department: how can I keep my hopes for the big prize alive without buying anything else? For instance, I almost took the bait and when I was about to put a ‘bonus entitlement’ certificate on a reply form. Then I realized it would sign me up for a multi-CD package (‘Mantovani plays the classics’), and that I would receive a new package every month (‘Mantovani plays Motown’, ‘Mantovani plays rockabilly’). You have to hand it to them: one way or another, they engage you in their product.

So it’s back to that dead fish. And my point is simple. Wouldn’t you pick up a tax return more readily if it was emblazoned with stickers saying ‘urgent prize notification enclosed’ and ‘for immediate attention’; and you had a letter from Minister of National Revenue Keith Ashfield (who seems like a nice man from his picture) urging you to ‘file now, so as to qualify for our grand prize of $1 million in lifetime tax credits’, or for ‘early bird draws of a 50 per cent reduction in your taxable income’. Come to think of it, they could also offer ‘Stephen Harper plays the Beatles’, and send you a new package every month (‘Stephen Harper plays ABBA; ‘Stephen Harper plays heavy metal’) until you begged them to stop.

And why take all of our inspiration from one source? What about all those lotteries and ‘Roll up the Rim’ contests? Why not have a chance to win, hidden under the removable address label that says either ‘file again’, ‘one free year of principal residence exemption’, or ‘winner/gagnant – your taxes are waived this year’? Or have a ‘scratch and win’ patch beside the medical expense credit calculation?

Why not dress the tax package up a little, so it’s as attractive as a magazine? Put an alluring picture on the cover, and then tease the reader with headlines like ‘15 ways to get your date to maximize his foreign tax credits’, ‘a surefire recipe for employment expense deductions’, or ‘how celebrities complete line 234’.

So next year, I expect you’ll see quite a different looking tax return. I won’t be here, of course; I will have persuaded my sweepstakes-winning neighbour Farnsworthy to let me join him on his celebratory round-the-world tour. I might have won if I’d put the stickers in the right place.

David Simmonds’s writing is also available at www.grubstreet.ca.