The Minnesota Farm Woman

I don’t know about you, but it seems that just about everything in my life involves a password. I have three computer passwords at work.  Yes, three.  It is a good thing they pay me by the hour, because I spend a heck of a lot of time remembering which password goes where!  I also have a password for my debit card, one to sign on to my computer, then three more for the different network sites I am on.  There’s one for my wireless internet router, which must be remembered in case I have company and they want to use their own computer, and another for my internet provider, just in case something goes wrong. There’s another one for Amazon.com, my favorite shopping web site. Paying off my credit  card is easy and only requires entering the 24 digit account number, plus the birthdate of my third grade teacher and the nickname of my first pet.  Everything would be just fine if I could use the same password for everything, but that is discouraged by the powers that be, whom I always refer to as The Great Computer Oz.  Choosing a password isn’t easy for anyone, and most certainly is not in our control.   For example, I’ll pick an easy to remember password.  “Pottymouth” seems like a good example.  If I type in in, though, big red letters will flash across the computer screen:  “YOU MUST HAVE A COMBINATION OF AT LEAST 12 LETTERS, NUMBERS, AND SYMBOLS, USING BOTH UPPER- AND LOWER-CASE”.  The Great Computer Oz has spoken.  All right, I’ll try “Pottymouth12”.  “WEAK PASSWORD, TRY AGAIN!”, which finally gets me to “PoTTymOUth #@$^!!” Yay! It is accepted!  Now to remember it.  I can write it down, but that is frowned upon by The Great Computer Oz as being easy for identity thieves to find and use.  Oh, Great Computer Oz,  don’t you understand that those of us over 50 must write things down or they will be forever lost in the dark recesses of our minds with other important information such as what time was that dentist appointment and what the HECK did I do with my reading glasses?  I have even forgotten where I hid the paper on which I had written the passwords.  Not funny, in case those of you under 50 are snickering. It will happen to you, too.   I don’t think any identity thief in his right mind would come to northern Minnesota anyway, looking for a scrap of paper that I can’t even find myself.  If they do come, I hope they bring their own shovel, because we’ve just had another eight inches of Minnesota Spring over the weekend.  If the thieves can hack into my computer through cyberspace and enter my bank account, they will be sadly disappointed.  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if  were so sorry for me that they would maybe even make a charitable deposit.  I am eagerly anticipating the day when  computers will scan our fingerprints and there will be no more passwords.  In the meantime, The Great Computer Oz in my work computer is telling me “YOU HAVE THREE MORE SIGN-ONS BEFORE YOUR PASSWORD MUST BE CHANGED. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE IT NOW?”  #@$^!!  No, Oh Great and Powerful One,  I don’t.