Michelle Goff, mystery writer

As you might recall, a few months ago, I shared the exciting news that the venerable Nielsen company had contacted me about taking part in their surveys. What you probably don’t know is that I didn’t complete the introductory form.

You know how it is. At first, you’re really excited about a suitor or a TV show or a granola bar. Then, the enthusiasm abates and, all of a sudden, you’ve lost interest in what once appealed to you.

I guess that’s what happened with the Nielsen company and me.

Well, at least with me. As it turns out, Nielsen was quite persistent, following up with a second letter that contained a crisp five dollar bill.

Retrieving my abacus, I added five to the one (dollar bill) Nielsen had previously sent and decided I could be bought for six dollars. So, I completed and mailed the form.

I didn’t hear from Nielsen for weeks. Finally, a letter arrived. Wasting no time clawing through the envelope, I developed an immediate case of the sads when I read what appeared to be a Dear John letter. Although the letter did contain another crisp one dollar bill and Nielsen’s thanks, it did not contain a formal request for more information.

Oh, well. I put the dollar in my pocket, dried my tears, and moved on with my life.

Then, in a surprising turn of events, the very next week, Nielsen sent another letter. That one contained not one, but two crisp dollar bills, as well as an invitation to participate in a survey.

Oh, my heart!

After once again consulting the abacus, I determined that my tally from Nielsen added up to nine dollars, which can buy two months’ worth of oatmeal.

A few days later, my ratings diary arrived. It didn’t contain additional crisp bills, but it did contain the news that, when I complete said diary, Nielsen will send me a check for five whole dollars.

According to the abacus, that will bring me up to 14 dollars.

Demonstrating that Nielsen has a sense of humor, the company asked that I complete a radio diary. This tickles my funny bones because I straight-up told them during our first correspondence that I do not listen to the radio.

Anyway, I’m halfway through my assigned week and, as predicted, my exposure to radio has been scant. Indeed, the 21 minutes I’ve listened to the radio this week have been accidental.

That shouldn’t change Nielsen’s opinion of me, though. According to words clearly written on the top of my diary, no matter if I listen to the radio “a lot, a little or not at all,” I’m important!

Oh, my heart.