The Password and Username Blues

I don’t know about you, but my head is just about to explode with all the usernames and passwords I have to remember. I mean, you can’t do a damn thing without having to have some kind of access code or number or minimum six-character configuration with no ;s or ‘s or _s or %s or ^^^s or ~s or <$#@&^!!!**s which, of course, you’re informed (after filling out some bloody 15 screen registration form) that the password contains ILLEGAL characters and you have to go back and start all over again.

$#@&^!!!**

Go ahead, laugh. I’ll jump out of this screen and rip your throat out. This happened to me. Sure, it wasn’t 15 screens, but it was one hell of a lot of fields and not one of them had drop-down fill-ins. If you don’t know what that means, then your life is probably blessed. Turn off your computer, open a beer and read a good book.

Last night, I found out that I have 117 usernames and passwords just to access web sites, directories, and other online thingamajiggers to market my books. One hundred and seventeen. That’s nearly my age. That’s very close to my age. That number is uncomfortably similar to the number that represents my age.

That number is too bloody big.

I mean, I haven’t used some of those usernames and passwords in, oh, let me see…over a year, maybe two or three years. I mean, if something on the web is working, don’t even think about accessing the administration page. You’ll curse it. But hey, shit happens. The information grows old, links break, graphics crumble, files deteriorate, and you have to enter a site that you haven’t entered in two years and the first thing the damn site wants is a username and a password that you wrote down on a scrap of paper. Two years ago. Find it.

Yeah, sure.

I smartened up a year ago and started keeping a log of all my usernames and passwords. A year ago. One hundred and seventeen usernames and passwords. Think about it.

Think about the ones you have to create or enter every week, every month – and God have mercy on you, every day. Every time you buy something online. Every time you sign up for a newsletter. Every time you do online banking or use online financial services. Every time you buy a book at Amazon.com or update your resume at a job site or do a PayPal transaction or join a Yahoo! group or access a free email service or update your web site at Geocities or create new products at CafePress or access a fee-based graphics service or visit the members only part of a professional organization web site or use online library services or sign on to MSN chat or read online editions of newspapers and magazines or make an entry at Blogger from a different computer.

Usernames and passwords are the junk mail of your own personal access Hell. They grow exponentially in relation to your presence on the Net.

Or something like that.

But it’s not just online. I haven’t been to Jumbo Video in almost a year because I’m too embarrassed to tell them that I can’t remember my password. Jeez, I can’t even remember if it’s a username. I go to Blockbuster because they just scan me and let me rent my damn movie.

How about PIN numbers? How many bank accounts do you have with different banks? I tried this once. Different banks for savings and checking and credit cards and whathaveyou. I got PIN numbers mixed up to the extent that, one day, the bloody ATM wouldn’t give me back my bank card. Kept it and told me I would have to see my banking agent. It was Sunday.

(Remember, I’m right behind this screen if you’re thinking about laughing.)

And what really ticks me off is that the “experts” say that you should never use the same username and password twice. You should invent new ones. And get this – you should change them frequently. Yeah! I’m gonna do that! I’m gonna change my one hundred and seventeen effing usernames and passwords three effing times a day and forget about ever writing another novel or short story or blog entry – I’m gonna spend all my time inventing new usernames and passwords and remembering them, right up to the day I die.

And we all know what happens then. We face the Pearly Gates. A screen appears with a lordly face. Under the screen is a keyboard and the face says: “Joining up is simple – just enter every username and password you’ve ever created.”