I am getting older and I look so forward to life getting simpler and less complicated. Things don’t seem to be going my way, however. Here’s what I am talking about.
Remember how it used to be when you asked someone for their telephone number? You’d look for a little scrap of paper to jot it down. Well, not anymore. Nobody under 75 has an address book anymore. Everything is done on your smartphone. I can't type or text like a teenager, but I have small hands and am pretty adept on the phone keyboard. It's still not that easy because everyone these days has a home phone, an office phone, a cell, a fax, and, at least, one email address. I could write a person's biography in nearly the same time it takes for me to enter all the numerals in their contact information. But I'm not complaining, it is important to keep up with technology so you can be a part of this world.
“I didn’t like it much when they lengthened my zip code with a hyphen and four more numbers, but I didn’t say anything.”
But... in my opinion, this whole numbers deal is way out of control. I get up in the morning and my digital scale reports to me in big, fat red numbers not only how much I weigh, but what I weighed the last time. If I let it, it would also let me know my percentage of body fat, but I am smart enough to jump off before it has a chance.
Then I go to my cell phone to see if anyone has called since the night before. I obediently put in my SECRET CODE which prevents any reprehensible scoundrels from breaking into my system and hearing the messages from my sister about how her cat has diarrhea from something he ate or how she really likes the new lip gloss she bought. You can't be too careful.
It’s time to leave for work and I am off to the gas station. I put my card in the pump slot and, naturally, it wants numbers. I dutifully put in my PIN number, but it quickly asks for my zip code. Geesh! What's next... my bra size and zodiac sign? Just recently, I went through all of that and a digital message came up and said "see cashier". I was in kind of a dicey neighborhood, so I tried to be understanding about the extra security measures. When I got there he asked me for my license plate number. I don't have a vanity plate that says something cute, so I had to go outside to look at the numbers and then repeat them in my head over and over until I got back to the cashier. Of course, there was a line by then, and some moron in front of me was buying a Hot Pockets and a coffee with only coins that he kept counting and recounting out loud. Finally it was my turn and I spit out my licence plate letters and digits like projectile vomit. I wasn't going back! The cashier then asked me if I knew my VIN number. "Well I don't know it by heart," I said sarcastically, "that's why I had it tattooed on my ass. Let me check!" Thankfully, he knew I had had enough and sent me back to the pump to gas up.
When I get to work, I put the code number needed to disarm the alarm system. I settle into my leopard-lined office, but before I start my day, I decide to call my credit card company and resolve a billing problem. The first thing that the electronic operator wants me to do is enter my account number. I do so. After that, she wants me to enter the last 4 digits of my Social Security number. I follow her instructions obediently. Now, when the real person finally comes on the line, what do you think she wants to know? You guessed it! My account number and my SS#! So my question is, WHO is the electronic operator selling this information to? Someone needs to look into this immediately.
It’s down to business, and I go to my computer. First, I need to LOGIN with another set of numbers and letters. See, this is what gets me. If it was just a matter of having a password, that is fine. I like security as well as the next guy. But everything I do has different criteria for the secret code, so I can’t always use the same one. Some need only five or six digits, but others require more... and letters, too. Often times these added letters are also case sensitive, and you have to remember if you put your dogs name in caps or lower case. It is all way too much work. And don’t even get me started about all the places you have to log in a password on the Internet. I gave up long ago trying to sort out my Amazon login from my Orbitz. Wherever I go on a site, I just look for the link that says "Forgot Your Password?" and hit it. Of course I have forgotten my password! Albert Einstein couldn’t remember all these stupid numbers. Anyhow, it doesn’t take long and it is much easier on my brain.
I have tried to adjust and keep up with this high tech world, I really have. I didn’t like it much when they lengthened my zip code with a hyphen and four more numbers, but I didn’t say anything.
Look, I can deal with the passwords and secret codes. I can handle the fact that the world, including myself, has four phone numbers. I am proud to say that I have memorized my driver's license, passport and Social Security numbers. I even know my American Express number and security code by heart so I can order things that I don't need when sleep eludes me in the middle of the night. But please, let it stop here.
If we don’t watch out, this numbers madness could de-personalize the human race to the point where some day we might all have numbers instead of names. I am serious, it could happen!
Instead of Fifi, I could be 88437. But don’t worry, we will always be close, so you can just call me 88.
Until the Next Time.
