Opting Out

"Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be."
-William Hazlitt

The other evening Spouse pulled an envelope from our mailbox which contained some new and ungraded credit cards for both of us.
Spouse had not requested anything of the sort. He had good reason for his reluctance to change and he decided to make a telephone call to find out what he could.
Visions of red tape and repetition flashed before my eyes and I settled down to listen to what was bound to be a frustrating conversation.
"I don't want this new card," said Spouse.
"I like my old one. This new one has no credit limit. I like the limit- it might sound strange to you but it gives me a feeling of protection. Not to mention the fact that I didn't ask for any change."
"Well," said the voice on the other end, "you were given an opportunity to opt out some time ago."
She was referring, we presumed, to some papers that shrewdly contained text more miniscule than the leg of a dustmite and just as obscure as could be.
That set Spouse off and he countered the lady's argument with a suggestion that opting out should not be his responsibility if he never wanted the change in the first place. There ought, if the world were fair and reasonable, to be a consideration to opt in if one wished for such.
"But it gives you benefits!" the voice protested, rising a degree above its flat monotony.
Spouse delivered a sweeping line: "the benefit is in the eyes of the corporation."
Having been a loyal customer of that particular company for more than ten years Spouse was inflamed more when the lady changed horses midstream, attempted to be helpful and offered to assist him in completely closing his account.
Spouse was having none of that. He requested that a supervisor be brought immediately- sure enough, the matter was resolved within five minutes, the latter assuring Spouse that there would be no change in the card or its terms of use.
Spouse dutifully informed the supervisor that the previous assistant had suggested dismantling the account, and he recommended that the company's employees in future not be so hasty to terminate the patronage of an honest cardholder.
"I'll take care of that as well," said the supervisor rather gravely as he tapped on his computer.
Sanity was restored, and all is well again.
Just the same, I do wonder if one can simply opt out of all the red tape and small print and smaller print and meaningless nonsense that strangles the precious hours and minutes out of daily life. How nice that would be.