Pinned Out . . .

Wednesday, November 21, 2007 at 00:00
By Marcel Strigberger

What is the biggest predicament facing baby boomers today? Health? Mid life crisis? Y2K? Our most critical challenge is trying to remember all those pin numbers.

There is an ever increasing myriad of access codes and I find that the more codes I try to remember, the more codes I keep on forgetting.

Back in hometown Montreal in the 1950s, our basic numbers were telephone numbers. And they consisted of only four numbers preceded by 2 letters, as in HArbour 4546 or DOllard 5522. A piece of cake. Oui?

We should have realized that we were headed for trouble when Ma Bell added an extra number turning the above into HA 3-4546 or DO 1-5522.

This unwelcome digit soon led to the complete abandonment of the names and we found ourselves with the challenge of remembering indistinguishable rubric such as 413-4546 and 361-5522.

But we accepted this additional cerebral stimulation. After all we did not quite expect the simplicity enjoyed by that family on the Lassie TV series where Jeff would pickup the phone, turn the crank and say "Hi Jenny, get me Cy Wilkins please." Lassie would bark in approval.

Then came those postal codes. The writing was on the wall, or rather on the envelope.

Now here we are. The following could be any day.

As I exit my home I try to set the burglar alarm, another simple 4 digit number. I won't divulge it to my dear readers at this time. It's not that I'm scared you'll barge in; it's because I don't remember it.

Next I want to close my garage door but I realize my son borrowed the car automatic garage door opener. No problem. The key pad on the wall. I thought it was the same code as the burglar alarm but my daughter changed it to another simple to remember combo, namely her boy friend's birthday. I manually pull down the massive garage door throwing out my back.

Once at the office I attempt to photocopy something. A message appears, "Your identification code?" I know it's 00123. Wrong. That's my Easy Banking phone access code. I try 4500. Wrong again. I check with the receptionist. She tells me 4500 is my long distance fax code.

I then spend the morning calling people and getting into their voice mails. My goal is to actually speak to some of these people, before the year 2000.

Lunch time. As I am short of cash I head to the bank. There is a bank machine standing at the entrance which beckons me like Clint Eastwood. It seems to be saying, "Go ahead, make my day. I'll bet you forgot your pin number."

This one's easy. I key in the usual number but no money. A messages says, "Wrong pin number". I try again and same result. It could be worse. At least the monster does not take out a Magnum and shoot me.

"How could I forget a number I have used so often?" I ask myself.

I start to think logically. "Just relax, I know the number," I reassure myself. It's got someone's birth date in it. I try the combo of my three kids' birth dates but no luck. I realize by this action I have probably remotely just opened my garage door.

Then I try some names. I'm positive the code has something to do with my dog. I try "BEAGLE". No go. "Hound". Still no money. I'm now desperate. Punch! Key! Strike!... I give up after "WOOF".

Fully frustrated I shout into the money exit slot, "Hey Jenny, can I have my money please".

You know what? That doesn't work either.

I leave the bank and after I get to the office, I get a distress call from guess who? My home security monitoring station. The alarm went off. They ask for my instructions but firstly they want to verify my security code. No problem. I blurt out some numbers and yo, it's the security number to my former office. I did not write down my home number because it was one of those easy to remember numbers. Nobody writes those down.

Fortunately the security guy accepts my plea of baby boomer dementia. "But in future without your pin number you'll just have to call the police yourself to attend," he says.

I am really glad he understood. The way things were going chances were great I'd try to call 911 and end up getting a pepperoni pizza.

______________

© 2007 Marcel Strigberger. This article CANNOT be copied or reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the Author.

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