Mondays are traumatic, and particularly Mondays after extended holiday weekends. Not even the Bergdorf Goodman Christmas window display can alleviate the stress of the Monday post-Thanksgiving. And it is on that Monday, when all the world appears to be in apocalyptic shock, that I finally had to complete an unfortunate task: changing my office password.
Yes, every three months my office makes me change my password to another absurd concoction of letters, numbers, and insignificant symbols. And for the next three months, I struggle each day to remember the precise order of said concoction.
Now, while most of you would say, just write it down on a post-it, or something, I must admit I find that difficult to do. Perhaps it is a result of my excessive Homeland viewing or the influence of my roommate’s dad who specializes in credit card security, but I hesitate to keep any written record of important passwords.
I am almost certain that if such a record existed, someone would proceed to go through the vast array of emails I have exchanged on the value of juice cleansing with several of my coworkers. (Did I mention I’m starting a cleanse tomorrow?)
And, of course, I would be mortified that an outsider’s set of eyes had seen me write an email entitled, “The Effects of Juicing on Your Bowel Movement.” And even more mortified when he saw that my only source of scientific knowledge was WebMD. Yes, the very site the diagnosed my stomach virus as gallbladder cancer is my one and only reference.
The point, dear readers, is that my fear of office password trolls prevents me from keeping any sort of traceable record of my new passwords. And even after three months, when I’ve started to sort of remember the number of digits in my password, the drama is not over because then I need to change it– as was the case today, the no good very bad Monday.
With only half a latte in my system and two packages to produce by Thursday, I took the one shortcut available to me. Instead of creating a password like this: Ya9yk7af, I created a password resembling this: lattelover89. NB: Only one of these passwords has ever been used in a professional environment.
Yes, in the words of my SAT tutor, I kept it simple. I created a password that even a senile old lady would struggle to forget. And just to reinforce its simplicity, I created a special password song to the tune of Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me).” See what I did there?
May your Tuesday be better than my Monday was!