Password. What an exciting word that used to be. As a 10 year old, I would think of Secret Seven and other Enid Blytons where the password was a magical word, allowing you entry to a world of secrets that your parents and elders couldnt gain access to. My cousins and I used to form secret societies for the sole purpose of having a password. It meant adventure, mystery and most of all, fun!
Fun. HA! At the age of 30, passwords have become a chore. A daily reminder of my failing memory and of the complexity of life today in an increasingly untrustworthy world. In a normal day, we need to know at least 7 different passwords:
to log in to the comp at work, and sometimes at home
to access work mail
to access personal mail
to social network
to read newspapers
to read blogs
to buy something online
even to just check one's account balance
Everything needs a password and like any game worth its name, its rules have become
codified. It cant be anything simple or obvious, like your mother's maiden name or the date when you paid the first installment on your housing loan. It cant be all letters or all numbers. It has to be of a certain length. You need to type it twice. Dont write it down anywhere. Dont use the same password for everything.
Banks go one step further. After making you perform mental calisthenics to arrive at an alphanumeric password that doesnt offend their finely tuned sense of what is fitting, you then have to change this password, that you laboured over, the first time you log in properly. So they can start the whole game all over again.
The fiends also ask you to remember some other answer to an inane question that will be asked, should you forget this work of art..er password. And of course, you need a fresh set of passwords to transact any business on the phone.
Phew. Is it any wonder that we all feel wretched and demoralised all the time.
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