The American Community Survey–the new version of the U.S. Census–arrived in our mailbox yesterday. In most households, this likely goes unheralded, but it’s caused quite the stir around here.
Apparently, the decennial “long form” has been replaced with a perpetual survey that targets a handful of random households every month. Most of the surveys ask a few basic population questions, but we were among the one in six selected to fill out a lengthy booklet about everything from my dress size to how often we clean the bathroom. I’m suprised they didn’t ask for the details surrounding the conception of my firstborn.
I am–of course–exaggerating, but only slightly. As a marketing nerd, I find this type of research–both the tool itself and the thought of what it might belie–quite interesting. My near-libertarian husband, on the other hand, finds it nothing short of a complete invasion of his privacy.
My one source of frustration stems not from sharing exactly how many rooms are in my house, or what my annual income is, or whether or not I accept any sort of state aid. I am only annoyed that I have to provide this information YET AGAIN.
I filed the appropriate paperwork after purchasing my home, I pay income tax, and I would certainly already be part of at least one database should I qualify for some sort of assistance. Surely in this day and age, there’s an easy way to store, sort and retrieve the information collected through these and the myriad of other government documentation procedures.
Instead, though, we’ll just take the estimated 38 minutes to fill out a survey and make it a bit easier for the folks in Washington. Or, if Bryan has anything to say about it, we won’t. At a fine of $100 per unanswered question, though, I hope none of you are counting on Christmas presents from the Smiths.
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