Ne of the scariest things I’ve heard in recent times (I wasn’t around to hear education minister Blade Nzimande address student protesters last week) was a comment by Woolworths CEO Ian Moir about the company being able to track 74% of its sales. That was

“You can’t have too much information about customers. Through tracking we know what you do, what you buy and what you’re most likely to buy.”

Not too long ago, acknowledging that level of surveillance might have prompted a visit from government security forces or even a bit of embarrassed shuffling from Moir. But no, there he was boasting about it to a room of enthralled analysts. There was little doubt that if he had his way they would be tracking 100% of sales.

The recent tweaking of Woolworths’ loyalty cards, which pay out handsome rewards if you happen to be shopping when the full moon is aligned with Jupiter, is no doubt designed to edge the tracking figure closer to the magic 100% figure.

It’s not just Woolworths. The only entity currently without a loyalty programme seems to be the Post Office.

Everybody wants to buy your loyalty — as long as you let them track and spam you to eternity. The return business is great but the benefits in stock management are infinite.

Of course there’s nothing quite as likely to reveal your age as your attitude to loyalty schemes.

It seems only people of a certain age care a fig about being stalked by companies that sell them stuff. This attitude is a throwback to the Cold War days when the only people interested in anything you did were spies from a foreign government intent on destroying democracy, or your own government.

These people are prepared to forgo all the alluring savings to retain their anonymity (ignoring the cellphones, iPods and ubiquitous CCTV cameras ensuring constant surveillance) and protect that old-fashioned notion that individuals cannot be loyal to a corporate entity, no matter how shallow that loyalty.

Mind you, the predictive ability of Moir’s cards might be an enticement for those who increasingly find themselves wandering along supermarket aisles desperate to recall an unwritten shopping list. They can ask a teller for help, and then buy exactly what they bought on their previous shopping trip.

The younger generation, whose members are happy to share all their tedious intimate details with complete strangers on Facebook or Twitter, seem ambivalent about Internet tracking.

Many won’t give a jot about supermarket chains knowing in advance that they’re heading for Danone, not Yoplait, when they march towards the yoghurt section.

But remember, it was from the ranks of the young that Edward Snowden and Max Schrems emerged to challenge the US and, more recently, the EU authorities respectively on the handling of personal information.

Presumably, as long as your shopping list isn’t shared with the US National Security Agency, there’ll be no problems.

And of course there are those who are older than those “of a certain age” and, in their twilight years, are enticed by the compelling need to stretch their closely managed income a little further.

And have the time needed to work out what is the best day of the week to buy Special K instead of Weetbix.

I’m passively part of three loyalty schemes (KLM, Seattle Coffee and The Book Lounge), not for any “rewards” but for a really old-fashioned reason.

I’m loyal to them because their service is excellent: they are efficient, their people are friendly and their tracking is understated.

And, like someone who grew up in the 1970s, I’ll cease to be loyal when any of that changes.