I needed a cabana boy with a tropical drink. I needed a Xanax. I was at the top of the steps, considering jumping (there were only two).
I was on the verge of a psycho-technological breakdown…the 21st century replacement to the good old-fashioned nervous breakdown. Wasn’t it easier when family or life events drove you crazy? Instead I pound on the keys of my computer screaming because I have so many codes I can’t remember which goes where. No, I do not have anger issues! I have “user name” and “password” dementia. I have no idea who I am on any given website. Was I animal, vegetable, mineral, or my date of birth backwards the day I joined? “Artichoke” sounded familiar because I’m a vegetarian and like them, but I also like fruit. They both flashed “password error” and I burst into tears. In personal defeat I clicked the loser option, “forgot your password.” Of course I forgot my freaking password, I have approximately 2,000. I’m drowning in names and number combinations all for the sake of internet security. How could someone steal my identity when I can’t even remember my own name?
It was 9:15 am and I was on the verge of destruction. I put my head down on my keyboard and tried to take a deep, calm breath, but I was wheezing and had begun to itch. Who was I? I know I wrote it down…did I use capital letters or all lowercase? Oh no, was this site case sensitive? Whose idea was case sensitive and are they on an airport watch list? I typed in every name I could think of and the website said it wasn’t me. IT’S ME, IT’S ME; who else would it be? Or was it? I ran to the mirror to confirm my existence. I was there but completely confused and seeing double.
I was having a psycho-techno nervous breakdown. Should I call for help? Is there a hotline for people driven to insanity by their computer? If there is, would I need a username and password? I was out of words and tricky number combinations. Clearly I was also out of my mind. My brain was on overload and about to burst, gray matter everywhere and not a noun in sight. In my delirium I decided to call Bill Gates.
Here at AGEIST, to prevent late night calls to Bill Gates, we have for a few years been using a program called DashLane. They are not one of our partners. So far, Mr. Gate’s sleep has not needed to be disturbed.
Gail Forrest recently started doing standup which she finds is a complete blast. Gonepausal is her blog and she has a book on Amazon by the same name filled with stories of her skewed, funny view on midlife and all its attendant surprises. Humor is the only way forward at this point.