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Sept. 10, 2006 Like most people, I love the convenience of our online world: between paying bills without a postage stamp, Christmas shopping in my boxers, and re-stocking the Netflix queue, I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know what I would do without the Internet. Just ask my wife. Whenever the wireless router goes on the fritz at home, I stare helplessly at the error message on the browser until she reboots the router with a quick yank on the power cord. Sad. I know. However, if there is one thing that tarnishes the joy and beauty of it all, it’s the passwords. Every site worth visiting – and even some that aren’t - requires a login and password. By last count, I’ve got at least a fifteen of them: for credit cards, financial accounts, frequent flyer programs, book clubs, etc. There are probably sites I don’t even remember anymore that have a login and password filed away for me. Don’t get me wrong. I understand the need for security and the commercial reasons for limiting access to duly registered users. And I can’t blame espn.com for luring me in with a headline about Terrell Owens’ latest shenanigans, only to hit me up with a registration prompt if I want to “read the full article.” That’s capitalism. The password thing is still out of control. First complaint: the rules. Some computer security wonk is taking things too far when he demands that my password be alphanumeric, between 6-24 characters, with at least one upper case letter, a Cyrillic character, and a hieroglyph from the “wingding” font. Oh, it also has to change once per quarter, can’t be a password used in the past two years, or have any derivation of the numbers from my birthday. Am I creating an account for shopping or to gain entrance to CIA headquarters in Langley? I can’t imagine that anyone out there in cyberland is really that determined to see what I’ve ordered from overstock.com or take advantage of my $1 shipping. By the time I’ve jumped through all the hoops to create one of these things, the mnemonic value is worthless. Three weeks later, I feel like a hacker trying to crack my own code. Life would be a whole lot simpler if I could just use “doggy” or “pizza.” “Ph!llyguy$324” doesn’t exactly flow off the fingertips when you are trying to check your fantasy football stats at 1am. Second complaint: the lockout. I inevitably use up my three strikes every now and then when trying to remember out what variation of my password will work (“did I sign up at usair.com before or after I started using Sl!mJ!m86? Or was that 68?”). This leaves me with two choices: wait until the lockout is lifted and try again, with no guarantee of better results, or call the company to have them reinstate my online account. I usually wind up calling, tail between my legs. ”Hi Judy. Yeah, it’s Matt again. Need a little help here.” It’s that bad. Third complaint: the identity verification. There’s always a “secure” question to which only I should know the answer. If I can nail that, I’m back in business with Judy and changing my window seat to an aisle online. However, some of these questions don’t always work for me. Sure, rattling off mom’s maiden name is easy enough, but it gets a little sticky with things like favorite movie or city. Those questions are moving targets, if not multiple choice. I may have used “Aliens” or “Shawshank Redemption” when I registered eight months ago - now this is a one-shot chance at proving my identity? So not fair. From what I’ve read, help is on the way. There’s some biometric technology – fingerprint scans - out there that could end my woes. In the meantime, though, I suppose the logical solution is to simply pick a password that meets the security wonk’s requirements and update each of my online accounts. That’s a lot of work, though. Too much for a guy who thinks shopping in his boxers is aerobic exercise. Fortunately, I’ve discovered a function in my new PDA that allows me to track and store all of my login and password combos. The function is password protected, of course. ------------ About Matthew Bastian: Recovering socialst, part-time drummer, long-suffering Brewers fan, and all-around beach hound, Mr. Bastian lives in central New Jersey. Email Matthew Bastian: mbastian19@hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. Please link to this article rather than copying and pasting it onto your site (which would be unauthorized and illegal). |
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