Dr. Boli’s favorite bank updated its site, and he was required to agree to revised terms and conditions in order to see his account information. This is quite ordinary procedure: companies have lawyers, and the lawyers have to do something to earn their keep, so mostly they sit around all day updating terms and conditions. These are then presented to the customers—sometimes with indications of what has changed, but usually, as in this case, just in a lump without any notes on the revision.
And usually you are not just required to agree to them. You are required to swear, legally, that you have read them.
So it was with the bank site: customers were required to swear that they had “reviewed” the document. Out of simple statistical curiosity, Dr. Boli copied the text into a word processor and noted the word count. It was 38,066 words.
Dr. Boli has many friends in the publishing industry. The Catholic publishers tell him that the usual length for a book aimed at the Popish market was 35,000 words a few years ago, but these days 30,000 words is considered more saleable.
Let us say, then, that the bank’s terms and conditions were equivalent to one book—a book that, in theory, you could read in about two hours and a quarter if you are an average reader who does not have to get up and use the bathroom.
It is likely that the average American faces some such agreement at least once every three days. Your mobile phone, for example, may update its terms and conditions every week. (The huge conglomerate that made Dr. Boli’s phone not only does not indicate where the revisions are, but adds the clever touch of presenting the terms and conditions on a non-flowable page that cannot be read on a mobile-phone screen.) If you pay a bill on line, there are terms and conditions. If you access a public router at some institution, there are terms and conditions. If you make a purchase on line, there are terms and conditions. If you subscribe to a magazine on line, there are terms and conditions. When you start your car, there are terms and conditions. If you drive a Nissan or Kia, for example, you have agreed that the company will monitor your sex life.(1) So have your passengers, and you have agreed that it is your responsibility to explain the terms and conditions to anyone who rides in your car.(2) For the passenger, what this means is that, if some kind friend offers you a ride, you are legally obliged to read a book, or to listen to a lecture that goes on for two hours or more.
Usually you are required to swear that you have read these things, not just agreed to them. Since it is inconceivable that decent, law-abiding American citizens would perjure themselves, our conclusion is simple: calculating by word count, the average American reads more than a hundred books a year.
Footnotes
- “Nissan earned its second-to-last spot for collecting some of the creepiest categories of data we have ever seen. It’s worth reading the review in full, but you should know it includes your ‘sexual activity.’ Not to be out done, Kia also mentions they can collect information about your ‘sex life’ in their privacy policy. Oh, and six car companies say they can collect your ‘genetic information’ or ‘genetic characteristics.’ Yes, reading car privacy policies is a scary endeavor.” —“It’s Official: Cars Are the Worst Product Category We Have Ever Reviewed for Privacy,” Mozilla Foundation. (↩)
- Nissan: “You promise to educate and inform all users and occupants of your Vehicle about the Services and System features and limitations, the terms of the Agreement, including terms concerning data collection and use and privacy, and the Nissan Privacy Policy.” Quoted at the Mozilla Foundation. (↩)