A banking crisis Becky was in a hurry and really didn’t have the time for sorting out password issues on her computer. She had been locked out of her online bank account after entering the password incorrectly more than three times, and she needed to access it to pay bills that were due that day. Aside from being a sloppy typist, the number of times she had to change her passwords left her unable to remember them correctly. It didn’t help that she had a computer file that listed all her current passwords, as she didn’t always update it.
So she began the difficult journey of setting up a new password, which only added to her current frustration. She phoned the bank, as she wasn’t able to receive a new one electronically, as per bank policy. Irritating as that was, she pressed on, as she was keen to avoid the massive penalty she’d incur if she paid her bill late. It was a tax bill, after all, and the government never failed to fine those who did not handle their obligations in a timely fashion.
She hoped she could avoid having to visit the bank, as it generally had terribly long queues, and as it was getting late in the day, she doubted she’d get served that day anyway. During her phone call she was passed between several different departments, and finally, after being on hold for several minutes and pacing around her flat impatiently, she was greeted with bad news. The bank representative asked for a telephone banking password, which Becky didn’t even know existed. Exasperated, she hung up without even asking what she should do next. It was now all but certain that she would miss the deadline for paying her bill. She could have arranged to pay it late and avoid the penalty, but getting locked out of her online account wasn’t something she’d anticipated.
She was deeply unhappy with the level of difficulty she experienced in doing what she believed should have been a simple online transaction. It was a transaction that she had done several times before, with success, but her occasional clumsiness and mild lack of organisation got the best of her that day. Completely focused on the unfairness of it, she gave no consideration to what banks do to protect information, and no thought to what might happen if someone hacked into her bank account and stole her entire savings. In Becky’s mind at that particular moment, it was all about the supreme inconvenience of technology.
Passwords had become so much more sophisticated recently, it seemed, so that something as simple as a pet’s name or a date of birth was now considered ‘weak’ and unacceptable to the system. Passwords had to have letters, numbers and one capitalised letter, and this was good for only a short period of time, after which they would need to be changed. Becky had long run out of ideas for new ones, so hers had become a meaningless jumble of numbers and letters. ‘Why couldn’t 1111 suffice?’ Becky said as she hurled her account details onto the table in the hall. She wasn’t normally so irrational, but her outburst allowed her to let off steam in the only way she felt she could.
She phoned up her accountant to see if he could help. His first words were ‘You’ll have to go into the bank to get a new password,’ which merely added fuel to the fire. Becky let out a big ‘Ugh!’ which was OK because her accountant, Kyle, was an old mate from university. She could be really grumpy with him and he’d forgive her. But his very flat, simple response - however innocent - was probably not the best thing for Becky to hear. |