Passwords and codes are a drain on the brain

Remember the old game show “Password” from the 1960s and 1970s? The host was the late Allen Ludden, who would be better-known today as Betty White’s former husband. There were two celebrities and two contestants. The two teams would alternate throwing out one-word hints to a secret word for the other to guess.

An off-camera voice would almost whisper, “The password is….ding!” And on the screen would be the word, something like sandwich. Each team would get five or six chances and could use the other team’s clues as well. The winner might get the princely sum of $200.

That’s what I need much of the time. I need someone to throw out clues for the myriad of passwords, usernames, numeric codes, combinations and other lists that now push us through our daily lives. I’ve got brain overload, which admittedly is not much brain to overload, but still. And this just in: it doesn’t get any easier with age.

There are codes for the ATM card, office voice mail and long distance, e-mail and the like. There are online usernames and passwords for credit cards, paying bills, insurance, financial planning, banking, eBay, Amarillo ISD’s Skyward to see how the young lad is doing in school, plus a few other websites that require coding.

Then there’s Facebook and blogging, which usually let me in automatically unless I’ve been out of the loop awhile, and then it’s back to square one to log in. It took two different passwords just to log in and start writing this.

Did I mention the combination padlock on the locker where I work out? Thankfully, I don’t Twitter (yet) and we got rid of our security code at work a few years ago in lieu of a security card or that would be two more.

I know I’m well on the low side. The New York Times reported about a man in San Diego who maintained 129 active passwords - 37 personal and 92 for work. And this was in 1999.

Danh Hoang, The Amarillo Globe-News social media editor, currently has 145 accounts that require passwords. He keeps them all on a spread sheet. Many people keep their information on their Blackberry. I would too if I had one.

It doesn’t help that many sites require a password between eight and 16 characters with at least one number divisible by 3 and two capital letters or some such verbiage. Nor is it a good idea to keep the same security codes or passwords on all accounts.

“That’s a big danger,” says Danh. “One slip-up and they can uncover your entire life.”

I’ve lost count on the number of times I’ve fiddled around with a username and password, thinking I knew it by rote, but, as the site mocks me in bold type, no, I don’t. Oh, that’s right, that one’s for espn.com insider. What I need is this one – nope, that’s not it either.

That’s followed by “Forget Username?” Then “Forget Password?” Sometimes it’s the old password that’s re-sent or it can be something new, which spits out a list that looks like a full Scrabble board that just got elbowed.

If you get up from your desk to walk somewhere and then forget why you got up in the first place, you’re a candidate for this. But maybe I’m not the only one. The book, “The Overflowing Brain: Information Overload and the Limits on Working Memory” has sold 1.5 million copies.

The low point for me came during a week off this summer. I remembered I hadn’t changed my office voice mail greeting. If I didn’t say I was not back at work until the following Monday, I’d have 25 messages waiting for me with most people wondering why I hadn’t returned their call.

So I punched in the five-digit code, or thought I did. It’s something I do 10 times a work day. It’s more muscle memory than anything. Except…

“Log-in incorrect. Try again.”

Finger must have slipped on the phone. Tried again. Same annoying recorded voice that it was incorrect. I was sure that was it. This is idiotic. Now I’m half-panicking, so let’s just relax and let it flow.

For all I know, I then punched in my personal-best time in a 5K. Three strikes and I was out. Disabled.

Sheepishly explain that one to the IT department. I thought about saving some face by bragging that I at least knew my driver’s license and social security numbers from years gone by when everyone plastered that on anything.

But I decided to forget it, which I apparently do a lot these days.

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