Shrinking rewards or not, the past 22 years have taught me I’m a Boots Advantage card person

theguardian.com:

I n fiction-writing courses, they say character leaks. By that, they mean that it’s not the declarations or decisive actions that give us away, but our unconscious behaviour. Which is how I learned, to my mortification, that a key part of my character was “Boots Advantage card person”.

I had recently started hanging out with an old friend, and one day, with mock (but actually totally sincere) pride, I told him how many points I had racked up that morning using a stealthy combination of vouchers. In a warm but lightly concerned voice he said: “You do know this is the third time you’ve told me about your Boots card in two weeks?” This morning, he texted me the news that the company is reducing its points offer – from 4p per pound spent to 3p – with his sincere condolences. I said I wasn’t sure I had time to write about it, and he replied: “You must always find time to battle for justice.”

For armour, maybe I could take a leaf out of the book of the British pop star Self Esteem, who sometimes plays live while wearing a dress constructed of old Advantage cards. Not that I’d sacrifice mine for the cause: I’ve had the same card for 22 years, since I was 12 years old. The now blurred signature hails from the days where I used the handwritten liner notes of Avril Lavigne’s debut album, Let Go, to teach myself how to write like the angsty Canadian pop-punk star (very spiky, naturally).

Well-meaning Boots attendants sometimes offer to replace it for a fresh white card with a crisp new logo, not realising that they’re dealing with a future family heirloom. When I registered for an online account some years back, I sent Boots a shame-faced email to ask if they could search for my customer number, which had long rubbed off, so I didn’t