DO NOT ENTER

Mary Ellen is always telling me to change. Not my sloppy eating habits. Not my occasional inappropriate jokes at book club. Or the way I make a mess in the kitchen.

She wants me to change my passwords. All 200 of them.  Mary Ellen reads a lot about identity fraud and password theft. She told me that the most common password is the word PASSWORD. “How can people be that stupid?” I asked her. So, I then changed my bank account login to MYPASSWORD. Much better.

The process of changing passwords takes work. I never knew that because I hadn’t changed one in 30 years. When I acquired our stray Beagle in 1990, I used his name for many of my logins. Looking back, that was a really dumb decision because not only could thieves figure it out, but when Barney got loose, he started making monthly withdrawals at the ATM—and a few deposits.

Part of the process of making these changes involves knowing your old password, but there are so many automatic or facial log ins that you can forget your password just as you do your own phone number. So, to change my password, I needed my old password, which means I have to start with the prompt: FORGOT PASSWORD.

Then I got a new password, but I’m far from getting it done.  First, I had to go through a verification process involving the website sending me a code, which never works the first time. Never.  So, then they send a new code that works. Why don’t they send the second code first? I can’t be the first person to think of this. Maybe the second.

Now, I know Mary Ellen is going to panic, but I am going to share with you some of my favorite verification codes I received. Feel free to use them.

2jk3j47474

94888777722

8989727377?

975099780

I then enter the number twice to confirm I’ve done it correctly. Then it always says, “Your codes don’t match.” That sounded very familiar. I assume because Mary Ellen always tells me, “Your clothes don’t match.”

When I enter the code, it requires a two-step verification called an account recovery contact. I put down Mary Ellen’s cell number. As soon as I do that, they text my wife’s phone to give her another verification number, which she was supposed to provide me. But this was at midnight, and there was no way Mary Ellen was going to be awake for another eight hours. And by that time, about 34 verification codes would have expired.

One website asked if I wanted a three-step process, but I couldn’t think of a single friend who was up at that hour.

You also get password suggestions. I received one that read: Zengia and another was Xnajaz. So, I finally figured out how big Pharma decides on names for their drugs.

In the morning, Mary Ellen told me that all the passwords I picked had a problem. Either they were too easy to figure out, like my middle name and age, or too hard to enter correctly, like *&^%^$#(&^^%$.

I’ve decided not to worry about this anymore. After reading this column, who would want to steal my identity?