Logging in the Digital Age
Hint: No trees were killed in the making of this post
My workplace has requested that I use an app to track my hours. There is a rule of technology- all apps require a login. The work itself uses no technology at all, but modern day workplaces expect a certain amount of technological competence. It is not enough to show up and do your job. You must be able to log in and out of an increasingly complex system of computer security, supposedly for your own safety and convenience.
Sadly, I was recently self-diagnosed with a severe learning disability that affects only my ability to log in and out. Of anything. You may think that this was made up, and therefore it's not real. IYH is a lazy woman who doesn't want to take the time necessary to figure out new technology, because she is stuck in her old-fashioned ways, even though it would make her life easier and safer.
I completely understand this way of thinking. After all, I used to think like that. I was in the denial stage of grief for a long time. Isn't technology hard for everyone? There's no such thing as a deficit that only affects logging in and out. It's not even in the DSM! Google "learning disability logging in and out" if you don't believe me.
But according to my boss, everyone else in my workplace easily logs in and out. It's really just me. Normal people can log in without turning a hair. And it requires many hours on the phone getting professional help to support me through technology related challenges. It's certainly a deficit that requires support.
Thankfully, the computer system we need to use has an entire support team, who theoretically help people like me. It's called the help desk. Its existence assures me that I am not alone in my struggles. Even better, the help desk person sounded confident and reassuring. I asked if they would be able to help me log in.
Help Desk Person: Of course. What do you need help with?
Me: I have an unusual learning disability, which you probably have never heard of. The truth is, I made it up a few weeks ago, but it is nonetheless very real and impacts my activities of daily living. It affects logging in and logging out. Last year I spent 3 hours on the phone with a robot computer person like you, no offense, but I never managed to log in. I hope you can help me log in.
Help Desk Person: Okay. I'm sure we can help you log in. Please go to our website. Website.site.fbi. Don't worry. Logging in is a quick and easy process.
Me: Glad to hear that. I'm at the website.site.fbi.
Help Desk Person, patiently: Click "forgot password" and send a change password request.
Me: I don't know my username, either.
Help Desk Person: That's easy. Your username is your registration number from when you waited in line to get pictures taken for work. You had it embroidered onto your uniform, until we changed the dress code. Don't you remember? It's a 10 digit number that begins with your date of birth.
Me, ridiculously: I was a baby. Do you remember when you were born? Why don't people ask for my wedding anniversary? That I remember.
(Honestly, I'm embarrassed to admit that I had no idea that such a registration number even existed.)
Help Desk Person, sounding only a little bit frustrated: Wait a minute. I will send you an email that will fully atone for your previous technology sins and allow you to do better in the future. Like G-d, we give users a second chance with technology, although there is of course a limit and a day of judgement after 18 failed tries. For security reasons, your registration number is attached to the text message I'm sending you.
(Only the first and last sentence is what Help Desk Person actually said. Help Desk Person is afraid to tell me the number over the phone, in case someone is listening in. I cannot imagine why someone would possibly want to listen in to me calling Help Desk Person, but for the record you are absolutely welcome to. You can even log into my account and do my hours for me. Just please let me know.)
Me: I clicked into the text. There's nothing like, um, what you said there would be.
(Secret: I forgot the term 'registration number' again, and am embarrassed to ask for it.)
Help Desk Person, patiently: You need to download the attachment.
Me, very confused: But it says to "first click here", and only then to "download the attachment". So I was obediently following that written instruction. But I can't download it.
(Accidentally clicks on the right thing.)
Me: Now I see. What do you want me to fill in here?
(I copy the number from the text, but fail to write it down, a costly mistake.)
Help Desk Person, still calm: Your username is your registration number at Website.site.fbi. It's very simple. I sent you a temporary password, and now you will have to make up a unique password.
Me, who is never going to remember any password: Why don't you make up a password and remember it for me? There's no way I'm ever going to remember a password. I would find that very helpful, Helpful Help Desk Person.
Help Desk Person: For your own security, I am not allowed to see the password.
Me: I'll make it easier for you to remember. The password is "help desk person". That's you. Remind me if I forget.
Help Desk Person: I'm not allowed to write down passwords.
Me: That's why I made it easy for you to remember.
(I painstakingly enter in "help desk person".)
Me: Now it says, "Your encryption code has expired". And they want me to start from the beginning. This is crazy. Full disclosure, I'm starting to take notes for my humor column.
( I make a mental note to send a link or a copy.)
Help Desk Person, who does not seem curious about the humor column : Enter in your username. You remember, the registration number for website.Site.Fbi?
Me: No, I didn't remember. Thanks for telling me again. I entered it in. Now it claims that I need a new secret code.
Help Desk Person: Encrypted code, you mean. Click "send new code". It should be there momentarily.
(2 minutes later)
Me, very frustrated that this already took an hour of my day: 2 minutes is not 'momentarily'. Do you want to make a bet with me? How many minutes do you think it will take for that email to appear inside my inbox?
Help Desk Person, who doesn't want to have any fun: It'll be there soon.
Me: I don't really blame you. I'll probably win the bet.
Maybe I can have a prize for not getting mad about this.
(Pauses, but no response.)
Don't you ever give prizes?
Help Desk Person, cracking under the pressure of the humor just a little bit: Unfortunately, no. Bear with me here. I'm looking through the server to see if your account is going through.
Me: Now it says that my unique password does not contain a number. So I need to come up with a number. What do you want to go with?
Help Desk Person, who is becoming more cooperative with time: 4. I'll go with four.
Me: Make sure that you're going to remember that, ok? Okay, I'm putting it in.
Help Desk Person: What does it say now?
Me: You won't believe this one. "Your encrypted message session has expired." Why does it say encrypted and not secret? That would be much more interesting. You have an entire secret code system and all you use it for is sending random numbers to strangers for work, and they can't even keep the numbers you send as a souvenir and have to change them immediately? What about taking cryptic ads in the New York Times that only 3 people in the country know to look for? How old fashioned are you?
Help Desk Person, patiently: Please go ahead and start again.
Me, impressed at that level of patience, but more impressed myself, for being on the phone and fully sane at the same time: Help Desk Person, you should know that I really feel like I deserve the Nobel prize at this point. But I know you don't give prizes. Certainly not Nobel prizes.
Help Desk Person, ignoring this: Did you start?
Me: I clicked here, because it said that I can send a new encryption code after 2 minutes. I assume that means we're going to be waiting at least 2 minutes. And I assume that you do not want to take me up on a bet about how long it will actually take to get that code . Or give me any prizes.
Help Desk Person, reassuringly: I'm looking at the server now to verify that's being sent. I do see the other one from 2 minutes ago. That's good.
Me, very bored at this point: Please note that I call you 'help desk person' and not 'help desk man', even though you sound like a male human being, because I am aware that you could identify as either male or female. I respect that, and I do not assume anything about you.
Help Desk Person, calmly: Thank you. Still nothing on my end.
Me, now very impressed, because it must have taken years in a Zen monastery to achieve this level of calm: Well, I don't like to waste my time, so while we are waiting, I will teach you something from my Substack, it's like a blog, I write about stuff. I'll tell you about idol worship.
(Very matter of factly, lecturing as if to a classroom)
In ancient times, idol worship used to be a really big thing, and anything and everything could be worshiped. Statues were a popular form of idol worship. With the rise of monotheism, statues became memorials instead. For example, in the United States, we erect statues to, let's say, WWII veterans, and nobody even thinks of praying to these statues for success in future wars.
(I paused, but there was silence on the other end, so I continued.)
I'm not sure if that's also true in other countries. I suspect that in countries that still have strong idolatrous traditions, they do worship statues of important people that were put up in rememberance of previous wars.
(Pause, there's a chuckle, so I continue, feeling encouraged.)
At any rate, there were lots of idols back then. One of them was served by throwing rocks at it. The sun/fire was a very popular object to worship, which is why there's a Jewish custom not to draw a whole picture of a sun. They even had idol that they served by pooping in front of it. It was called Baal Peor. Isn't that useful information?
Help Desk Person, finally letting out a laugh: Yes. It is. Can you go ahead and try to resend the code again?
Me: Now it says: "New code sent. It may take a few minutes to arrive in your inbox."
Help Desk Person: Let's give it a minute.
Me: Meanwhile, I'll tell you a little more about idols. It's interesting to think why idol worship was such a powerful and universal desire in ancient times. Why didn't they discover science? They were pretty smart, they managed to build the pyramids, so what what stopped them from developing technology?
(Let me know if you have a satisfying answer to this question. Thankfully the number comes.)
Me: I just got it!! It's 123455673. But now it says that my password does not contain a symbol. Do you think the computer is making a polite observation about my password, or is this a criticism from the computer that my password isn't quite up to standard?
Help Desk Person: Please put in question marks and asterisks. And while you're at it, capitalize the word Help.
Me: Ok. Don't forget my password. HelpDeskPerson4****???? I put in 4 asterisks and four question marks because YOU said the number 4 before. I expect YOU to remember this.
Help Desk Person, wisely ignoring this: What does it say now?
Me: Oh! Now it says "Service Unavailable: There was an error processing your request. Please try again later. We apologize for the inconvenience." It's nice to get an apology sometimes. That was much nicer than the passive aggressive criticism about my password.
Help Desk Person, who has to be the most patient person in the whole entire world: You can go ahead and close down the browser. Reopen the attachment on the email.
Me, starting to think about quitting my job over this, but realizing any other workplace else will demand the same, because I was unfortunate to be born at the end of the 20th century, and not the beginning: Give me some hope. People do eventually log into their thingamajigs, right?
Help Desk Person: Yes. All the time.
Me: Can I please tell you the one thing about me that my husband finds the most annoying?
Help Desk Person, doubtfully: I guess so?
Me: I cannot deposit checks on my phone. I have no idea how to do so, other than visiting a bank. My husband has gone so far as to download an app that supposedly does it, but I can't log in. So every time anyone hands me a paper check, I give it to my husband, who nobly and chivalrously deposits it for me. He insists that this is easy and that I should be able to do it by myself.
Help Desk Person, trying not to laugh: That's good. Did the password work?
Me. No. Now it says: Passwords must be 10-30 characters long.
At least one digit (0-9) is required, except 4, which cannot be used.
At least one symbol character is required, which should reflect your inner being.
Your username may not appear in the password. In any form. We will notice if you do it backwards.
Help Desk Person: Yup.
Me: I appreciate your help, Helpful Help Desk Person. But really, why tell me this now? This would have been useful to know a lot earlier. It would have saved a lot of time.
Help Desk Person, who seems to have settled on ignoring most of my ignorable comments: Please try again. You have to open the attachment, because I'm allowed to reset it, and I know what the temporary password is, but I'm not allowed to tell you. So please copy that password and go back to website.site.fbi. Click on the "stupid users" flashing red light. It will prompt you to change it, because right now you're only logged into the security service server, not the surveillance savant server.
Me, confused again: But I can't update my thingamajig until I log into the regular system.
Help Desk Person: Let's work through it.
Me: I'm going to go and try to log into the regular system. What do I do first again?
Help Desk Person: Go ahead and open a new browser window. Go to website.site.fbi.
Me: Okay. That oddly worked. Now it says, "Congratulations! You have successfully changed your password. Click the link below to continue." Thank you for congratulating me on a job well done. Then tragedy struck. It didn't continue. Instead, it says that it needs to be authenticated. I am sure the cell phone I use is authentic.
Help Desk Person: That's a different website, it's called Zing. You would have set it up when you first logged in last year.
Me: It's nice to know I did something correctly a long time ago.
Help Desk Person: This would have been on your phone. Did you change phones?
Me: Not yet. Should I?
Help Desk Person: So now I can see that you are registered at Zing. Refresh it, and create a new user. Now your phone is asking you to scan a QR code. It should let you in this time.
Me: Please tell your boss that saying that this is a quick and easy thing to do is a lie worthy of a politician.
Help Desk Person, sounding extremely relieved: There are several options available on the screen. One of them should be the place to enter your hours.
Me: You've really been incredibly patient. Thanks very much for your help so far. Um, please stay on the phone and help me through this too.
Help Desk Person: I only do logging in. Entering hours is a different help desk. Shall I transfer you?
Me: No! What?? Why??? Never mind. Good bye.
(Details have been changed so that they cannot sue me for disclosure of proprietary information.)
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