I have scaled 14,000-foot mountains. I have gone swimming with whale sharks. I have ridden camels and elephants and golf carts. I have given birth twice. But I have never successfully completed an online form on the first try.
This upsets me.
I cry, I curse, I flag down teenagers walking home from school, hoping they are part of some geek squad.
Mostly I feel stupid. After filling out my name, date of birth, address, weight, favorite sport and Zodiac sign, I am asked to create a password. But they never like my passwords.
This also upsets me.
I’m jumpy, and fearful because I grew up at a time when adults hollered at any child bold enough to touch a button. It was the Don’t touch! generation. A thousand voices from my childhood shout as I cautiously reach for the Continue button.
One hundred percent of the time my first Continue fails.
I freeze as I am confronted by templates and passwords, endless security checks and unhelpful help buttons. Where are the humans?
My palms turn sweaty as I strain to see if I have missed a piece of a traffic light that will confirm that I am a robot.
The computer begins to scold me as it rejects my futile attempts.
Your password must contain upper- and lower-case letters and at least one numeral!
I go for it.
Your password may not have the same two numbers in a row!
I try again.
You may not use any password that contains the letters fUCk!
I begin adding snarky words to every directive and imagine my computer as a surly teenager.
Your password must contain at least one special character, Boomer.
Passwords used in a past life are not eligible, Dingbat.
After too many attempts, this account has been blocked, Old Bag.
I catch the computer rolling its eyes at me.
I need a glass of wine and I haven’t even had breakfast.
It’s not just the damn passwords. It’s the endless security checks, page after page of legal forms and privacy notifications, all adding to the haunting suspicion that it may be a scam.
This also upsets me.
Then, after most of my hair has been torn out, I am sent a perky email asking for a review of the process. If I mark a single star out of five, I am sucked through a vortex of additional questions until I finally slam the delete key with my flip-flop, and take the dog for a walk.
I am not a robot!.
Exactly!
So funny and spot on! PS, I had to re-register for my Substack account to post this comment. 😂