I can remember a time when there were no passwords, user names or PINs.
There was work, leisure and shopping but they never involved entering a password. The first number I ever had to remember for access purposes was a security code to punch into a lock on my office door. Secret codes seemed to proliferate from there until they have taken up most of my mind’s mental space.
The first password for the day is on my laptop. I then check a work email that not only requires a password but a staff ID number and on top of that a password. That has to be changed every few months. The IT department claims that’s for security reasons. Because people are so desperate
to read those oh-so-riveting emails about restructuring, recycling and resigning.
But even for those of us who are lucky enough to bypass the office codes, our homes are resembling workplaces more and more. Want to check your bank balance? Conjure up your user name and password. Want to look at your super account? Find your super account number and remember your password. Want to watch ( sorry, I mean stream) a film? Remember which email you have used, which service and, of course, the password and the PIN. Try entering it all on a digital screen, selecting each digit and then entering it. If you make a mistake an error message will pop up instructing you to start over, rendering you unable to watch even the bubbles in your Champagne disappear, let alone a rom-com.
In desperation you run to the shops to buy a packet of fags but pull out a plastic card and can’t remember if it’s credit or savings and which PIN goes with which. The only course of action left is the Bay Run, unencumbered by passwords, pins or user IDs! It’s a bit like how life was before the digital disaster struck.
Got Bay anecdotes? Message baybitch@ciaomagazine.com.au.
