Yes, I'm Pretty Sure It's Really Me

YES, I’M PRETTY SURE I’M REALLY ME

There’s a big event coming up in your life and you’d really like to shop locally for something to wear, but you’re 84 and don’t drive any more because of health issues. So you get on your computer and type in “embroidered jacket” or whatever you’re looking for. Up pop pages and pages of embroidered jackets, some attractive, some no-doubt-about-it ugly. But, you’re in luck! One of the jackets that appeals to you is on your favorite online shopping website. One that you go to and purchase from at least 3 times every week, because they carry everything you would ever need to make it through life. The jacket is the right color to go with the rest of what you are wearing, looks like the style will fit your hard-to-fit person and it’s on sale, the price is right. Plus, you are a member, so free shipping. Can’t beat that! Click!

              But the website no longer knows you. It sniffs you suspiciously. Forget the little “remember me” box you clicked when you set up your account, it wants your username and your password. Now, back in the “olden days” when we were first navigating the web and had to have passwords, we could have and use one password for almost everything and we did that. It was an easy-peasy one and you knew it by heart. Just enter your password and off you go, right? Not so, anymore. It is recommended by google, Bing and all the other online police that every password be different. That it has upper case letters, lower case letters, numbers, exclamation points, emogis, symbols and a few swear words for each and every website you want to connect to. So, there you are, with 83 different passwords. How on earth do you remember them? You write them in a notebook, of course. And then, every time your daughter-in-law, the computer whiz, comes to visit you show the “secret” notebook to her, until her eyes glaze over and she says “I know, I know, passwords”.

              It was this notebook I grabbed and quickly leafed through, looking for the exclusive password for this particular retailer. I say quickly because I was getting to like that jacket more and more as it became more and more trouble and I was panic-ed that someone else was going to buy it before I could get there. It said “only 1 left in your size”. Click, click, clickity, click click! Password in. Instantly, the red lettered notice comes up “this password and user name are already connected to an existing account.” Period. “Please contact customer service if you want to re-activate this account”. Getting a little snotty about it.  Wait! I just wanted to look at this one jacket. Maybe I won’t even buy it! Oh darn! Maybe, I put the password in wrong. Find the book again. Look up the password, again. Nope, looks right. Put it in again. Punch the letters a little harder to make sure they get in right. Check to make sure your caps lock is not on. Red sign pops up “ Password is not correct”. Arghh! What do you mean it’s not right? jabbing my finger at the notebook. “See this? It’s right here!”

Now, I’m showing the secret book to the screen “Look! Halfway down the page, See there? I wrote it in myself!” Red message pops up “Please complete the questionnaire below, so we know it’s really you”. Whaaat? “Or, click on each picture below that has a dog lifting his leg on a fire hydrant. Then click on the ‘I’m Not a Robot” sign.” “Then maybe, just maybe, we’ll let you in.” No, they didn’t say that last part, but that’s what they meant.

              Grumble grumble, I’m beginning to hate that jacket. It’s probably bad luck. I’ll probably get hit by a truck while wearing it! But I answered the questions, except the one that was none of their business. Why would they need to know my weight, anyway? I can’t even get weighed at the Dr’s office without having my blood pressure go up 20 points, I’m not putting it out there in the ether. Okey, I finished all their requirements, put in the password, again and hit the little eyeball to see if what I wrote is really what I wrote. Looks good. Click!

              The Red message pops up “Please switch accounts”. Switch? To what? To someone’s account who has a higher credit rating? More ready cash? A more prestigious address? I only have one account. Red Message says “Have you forgotten your password?” Nononono! Jacket! The Cerulean blue one, size 14!

The dreaded red message fills the screen “Would you like to change your password?”

 “Pleeeeze, I’ll pay double! All I want is a look at that one jacket. I promise if I buy it, I will never return it. Or loan it to anyone. Or leave it in the movie theater. Or cut it up into little tiny pieces.” 

The Red message looms up, larger letters this time “We are de-activating your account at this time, due to inactivity. Please contact customer service if you feel you have received this message in error.”

Now I’ve jumped up and stand, yelling at the screen! What do you mean inactivity! I’ve been on this same site for more than an hour, trying to get into your store so I could look at this one jacket! Well! This for you! Click!

Is there any single thing in our lives that is more helpful, informative, obliging and user-friendly than our computers? Or frustrating, rage-provoking, headache-inducing than our computers?

I pull up my browser and type in “24 Hour Pharmacy near me, pain and headache remedies, immediate delivery, hassle-free ordering. Several possibilities come up. Ahhhh. Click!