COLUMN: John L. Smith

     Don't take this personally, but Brenda Cardin figures her business is none of your business.
      She has a favorite restaurant, but its identity is not your concern. She enjoys shopping for her family, but it's none of your affair whether she purchases red sneakers for her husband, Jay, or new outfits for each of the five grandchildren she cares for daily.
      Brenda Cardin is a private citizen, and she plans to keep it that way. Problem is, officials with the U.S. Census Bureau have made Cardin's business their business. And that has her praying for anonymity.
      It all started in January when she received a form letter from the Census Bureau saying her home had been selected to take part in the Consumer Price Index survey.
      "I didn't take it very seriously," she says.
      Which is a kind way of saying she deposited it in the trash can.
      But when the government wants the goods on you, it is not easily deterred.
      Days later, a man showed up at Cardin's door.
      He was there to do the survey, he said.
      What survey? she asked.
      Why, the extensive survey that feeds the government's Consumer Price Index, the statistical catalog of the goods purchased and the services used by the nation's citizens. From utility bills and garbage fees to shoes and color televisions, it's all in there. Cardin's home address had popped up in the big computer, and it was up to the interviewer to enlist her cooperation in the national numbers crunch.
      With five grandchildren preparing to play "The Ransom of Red Chief," it was not the most appropriate moment to come calling.
      Alas, the interviewer could not wait until the kids were at college. He had a job to do, and logging Cardin's consumer habits was the biggest part of that duty.
      How many times a week did Grandma Cardin eat out?
      Not enough.
      How much did the Cardins spend on vacations?
      Vacations? With five grandchildren in the house?
      "The more I thought about it, the more angry I became," Cardin says. "I think it's an invasion of privacy. I think the government is too nosy, anyway, and I told him I didn't want to do this."
      But the folks at the Census Bureau are not easily counted out. Two weeks later, the Cardins met the bureau's local senior field representative and supervisor Nancee Miller.
      A 13-year veteran of the numbers racket, Miller prides herself on ensuring her office's statistics are up to snuff. That means persuading reluctant subjects to cooperate. After all, the statistics have an impact on cost-of-living increases. The Consumer Price Index survey for which Cardin had been selected by computer necessitated the subject submitting to five interviews over a period of 15 months. Sorry, no substitutions.
      Alas, still no sale.
      "Of course it's voluntary," Miller says. "The person has a right to refuse. But the address cannot be substituted."
      No, the computer made it clear that the person residing at Cardin's street address was one of several hundred selected to participate in the survey.
      Cardin still wouldn't budge.
      "Where do you think all those statistics come from?" Miller asks.
      Not from the Cardin house, apparently. And getting the family's address removed form the computer isn't easy. There are protocols to follow, and rules are rules.
      Are the Cardin clan's eating habits so different from the folks next door?
      "You'd like to think there was some logic to what the government does, but I've come to the conclusion that there isn't any," Cardin says. "She tried to persuade me that the whole economy would come to a screeching halt if I didn't do the interview. Alan Greenspan was going to have a coronary if I didn't do this interview."
      Undaunted, Miller waited a few days and called again.
      "What part of 'No' don't they understand?" Cardin says. "Where we go to dinner and how much we spend is nobody's business. The government doesn't have money to do the things we need to do, but it has enough money to go around finding out where I go to dinner."
      Miller says she appreciates Cardin's dilemma, but someone has to feed the great statistics machine. Besides, the survey is confidential.
      Just not confidential enough for Brenda Cardin.
      "This woman has a perfect right to refuse to cooperate," Miller says.
      So that settles it, right?
      Not exactly.
      The Cardin home remains in the census computer.
      Says Miller, "We'll be calling on her again in April."
     
     John L. Smith's column appears Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. He may be reached at John_L._Smith@lvrj.com.