able to get back online.
Cough. And he swore on his mother’s grave that he never set up his Security Questions. Shame on Mister whatshisname.
Beep!
“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed, this is Maddy,” I say listlessly. “What can I do for you today?”
“These Security Questions are driving me crazy. I need help setting them up.”
“I can help, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”
“It’s patronizing me! It refuses to take my answers.”
“Now tell me, what are the questions you’re choosing?”
“Well, the first one is: What’s your oldest sibling’s birthday?”
“Ma’am, can you please make sure that your answer is in the right format?”
A beat. Another beat. Still no answer.
“Um, what format is it specifying?” I persist.
“It says MMDD. But I’ve entered my sister’s birthday and it won’t accept it!”
“Well, what answer did you give?”
“0581978.”
“So, is her birthday on May eighth?”
“Yes,” she concurs, flustered at this point.
“Then you need to enter 0508.”
“Oh!” she cries like it’s a revelation. “Since I have you on the line, can you please stay with me until I complete this?”
“Of course I can,” I say graciously.
“Here’s the next question that I’m choosing: What is your favorite book? And I’m typing in the Bible for my answer.”
“Um ma’am, that is pretty easy to guess. According to polls, that is what forty percent of users list as their favorite book and any hacker could easily figure that out. It would be more secure if your answer is a bit harder for someone to guess.”
“Then I won’t remember it,” she says with an aggrieved air.
I breathe out a heavy sigh. These stinking Security Questions are far from being foolproof. Some of the answers she provides could be posted on her Facebook page. Any teenager high on pot could easily access her info with just a few mouse clicks.
Eventually, she concedes. “I’ve typed in a different answer. I put down The Book of Mormon. And here is the next question I’m selecting: What is the name of the hospital in which you were born? And I am typing in Saint Jude.”
“Now that is a tricky one ma’am. Keep in mind that you need to remember exactly how you spell it. For instance, saint can be spelled St, or Saint, or St followed by a period.”
“The crap I have to remember,” she gripes. “I’ve already got over fifty passwords, and if I have to remember one more password or security question, my head will crack open!”
“I know.” My voice drips with empathy. “We’ve got so many passwords to keep track of these days.”
“You got that right. Shoot. I’ll probably be calling you again.”
I shake my head. I’m sure she will be.
Beep!
“Thanks for calling Lightning Speed Communications, this is Maddy, how can I assist?”
“My Security Questions are locked. This is frustrating, man. It used to be so much easier. Why did y’all have to go and change the dang thing?”
“I’m sorry sir, it’s a new security procedure; but I can get you back online if you can answer one of your Security Questions over the phone.”
He groans with displeasure. “Ask me the question.”
“Okay. When you first flew in an airplane, what was your destination?”
“I believe it was Chicago, Illinois,” he says.
“Sir, when you originally answered this question, did you type Chicago, or Chicago space Illinois, or Chicago comma Illinois, or Chicago IL? I have to key in your answer and if the spelling is not an exact match, my system will tell me it’s wrong.”
“Gotcha! I think I put down Chicago comma Illinois.”
I submit his answer and wait. “Sorry sir, it’s incorrect.”
“This is ridiculous!” he hisses and I don’t disagree.
But since day one of working here, I’ve learned to never ever give the callers the benefit of the doubt.
So I probe, “Sir, can you please tell me how you would have spelled Chicago, Illinois?”
He emits a loud exaggerated snort, taking slight offense to my question. “Humph, just like how it’s supposed to be spelled—C-h-i-c-a-h-g-o I-l-l-a-n-o-i-s-e.”
I stifle a giggle. “Okay, let me try that.”
I submit his answer and wait for my system to verify it.
“That is the right answer.”
“See!” he says in an accusatory tone. “Why don’t you learn how to spell next time!”
I close my eyes briefly and reset his Security Questions. Some battles are just not worth fighting.
I’m just glad that he didn’t have to spell Mississippi or Massachusetts.
Beep!
Before I can rattle off my usual greeting, the caller ruptures my eardrums, “DO I HAVE TO ANSWER THESE BLASTED SECURITY QUESTIONS?”
“Yes sir, you do,” I say patiently.
“WHY?” He huffs and heaves, like he’s about to