It's About Trust, Bozo

Jan 3, 2002 --

Some love is just a lie of the heart
The cold remains of what began with a passionate start
But that can't happen to us
Because it's always been a matter of trust

Billy Joel, A Matter of Trust

I was married to Jeff Bezos' amazon.com for four years. I admired Amazon. It was the poster child for the Internet revolution, a market leader, one of the earliest e-commerce players. I studied the site as THE measure of good site design, and ordered shopping carts full of books, toys, CDs and gifts. The free Post-it notes, magnets and bookmarks included with every order were a nice touch and a smart way to further promote the brand.

Our divorce proceedings started in August of 2000, several minutes after I received an e-mail from Amazon alerting me to the company's new privacy policy.

The new policy stated that Amazon would continue to collect personal data about me: financial information, buying patterns -- even my social security number, which they could acquire from one of their partners.

Those are forgivable offenses, I suppose, but what caused the irretrievable breakdown of our relationship was this statement: "As we continue to develop our business, we might sell or buy stores or assets. In such transactions, customer information generally is one of the transferred business assets."

In two sentences, I went from being a customer to being an ass. And I wasn't even allowed to put my information out to pasture: the company abruptly discontinued the never@amazon.com opt-out program. (How's that for willful desertion of courtesy?) Further, the e-mail I sent requesting that my personal information not be shared was ignored.

I don't mind being an ass. In the brick-and-mortar world, customer information is routinely bought and sold. What I mind is that Amazon deceived me: the company originally said it would not sell, trade or rent personally identifiable consumer data. (Note to my lawyer: Can we add gross misbehavior and wickedness to my grounds for divorce?)

It's not that I have anything to hide, and even if I did, it wouldn't matter. There is an implicit bond of confidentiality that exists between an individual and a company with which it does business. How would your customers feel if you published their buying habits in the newspaper? Who owns your customers' purchasing history?

Amazon made it clear I no longer owned mine, and the company collected quite a bit of information about me -- and my family, friends and associates. I spent a small fortune buying its products and took advantage of being able to ship my purchases to family, friends and associates, giving Amazon their addresses and phone numbers.

My personal information and that of my family, friends and associates could be used -- or misused -- by any company Amazon chose to give or sell it to. I didn't like some of the company Amazon kept.

In January of 2000, a complaint was filed with the Federal Trade Commission alleging that Amazon's subsidiary Alexa Internet violated individual privacy, according to gigalaw.com. The FTC later declined to take any immediate action against Alexa, but advised Amazon that both Amazon and Alexa "likely were deceptive" about their privacy policies, according to E-Commerce News. A month later, Amazon and Alexa agreed to pay out almost $2 million to settle civil suits filed by users who claimed their personal information was collected and used without their permission.

In March of 2001, Bibliofind, a wholly owned subsidiary of Amazon, revealed that a hacker had broken into its Web servers some four months earlier and downloaded some 98,000 customer records, including customers' names, addresses and credit card numbers.

Amazon itself is not immune to such gaffes. Shortly after revising its privacy policy, a bug in one of amazon.com's Web pages exposed numerous e-mail addresses of the site's Affiliate members.

Another reason for my divorce from Amazon? Habitual intoxication with short-term results.

Direct marketers considered Amazon's privacy policy revision a smart decision. It just makes good business sense, they said. Amazon was struggling to produce revenues and realized it had been sitting on a tremendous "asset" for privacy reasons.

Amazon should have sat on it a lot longer. One of the most valuable assets an organization has is the trust of customers.

I no longer trust Amazon.

I've been dating Barnes & Noble. Their privacy policy includes a link that allowed me to tell them I do not want my information shared with any third party. (I'm still forced to opt out, which places the burden on me, but at least I have the option.) I can also shop on the site without the use of cookies.

My new relationship is made all the sweeter by the animosity that exits between Barnes & Noble and Amazon. Amazon obtained an injunction in December of 1999 that forced barnesandnoble.com to replace its one-click system with a slightly more complicated ordering system. The injunction has since been lifted.

I run into my old love everywhere, but have yet to be tempted to reconcile. The next time Amazon revises its privacy policy, it should also revise its slogan, changing it from "Amazon -- Earth's Biggest Selection" to "Amazon -- Earth's Biggest Deception."

It was a matter of trust, Mr. Bezos.

Questions or comments? feedback@i-genuity.com

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About The Author

Mary A. Sicard is president of i-Genuity, the Click-Here Strategy and Services firm in Augusta, Georgia.

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