One of the more challenging aspects of this gig is figuring out what rises to the level of being column-worthy. A mere pet peeve doesn’t really move the ball, so I wasn’t sure if my irritation at being bombarded with marketing chatter every time I approach a teller at one particular branch of my bank was thick enough gruel, if you know what I mean.

It’s reached the point where I avoid patronizing that branch as much as possible, despite the fact that it’s super convenient. And on those rare occasions when I do succumb to its convenience, I launch into my pre-emptive rap before the teller can open his or her mouth.

“My account is working for me just fine, thanks,” I say. “My name, address, phone number, birth date and blood type haven’t changed. I’m not interested in signing up for or buying a new product or service. Now can I just please make a deposit, please?”

But maybe, I thought, that’s only one of my personal hot buttons. Then I went to a party the other night (hum a few bars and you’ll pick it right up) where the hostess told me that she had switched to placing her orders from a famous mail order company online, instead of by phone, because she was tired of the same thing: every time she called, she had to listen to a sales pitch, or pitches, before she could even begin her transaction.

Bingo! I now had what we newsroom wags used to call the definition of a trend in journalism: two facts (well, okay, opinions) and a deadline. My friend and I both prefer to do business with actual human beings, which is why I went to the bank instead of using an ATM and she ordered stuff over the phone, but we also both feel as if we’ve been forced to resist our natural inclinations by people whose employers require them to badger us, presumably as a condition of continued employment.

There seem to be more and more places, both real and virtual, where you can expect to be ambushed by “buy, buy, buy.” Choosing to transact with real people is an escape route that’s narrowing by the minute. Of course, you get ads online, and you know they’re tracking you, too. Even some public radio stations now make you listen to a fund-raising plea before they start streaming their content online (although I find that a little easier to forgive).

But at least you aren’t being penalized for wanting to deal with a human being. Especially at this time of year, when rampant commercialism and the most festive of personal interactions coexist uneasily in our consciousness, I think that’s more than a peeve.

Jeff Mortimer is a freelance writer and editor based in Ann Arbor.