The Problem with PINs

The personal identification number. Boy, doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? My very own number, designed to uniquely identify me as myself to a system. A secure four-digit identifier. No one would ever know.

Other than their rock-solid security, what else about PINs makes me giddy? They are so stunningly great that I will never, ever forget them. Even though I spat out those four numbers years ago when I opened that account, purchased that first cell phone, or signed up for that service, they are all of such value that I will remember them 'til my death.

Sure, I will never use one of those PINs — unless, of course, it's an urgent situation. Because, when I am in dire need of customer support for the first time ever or when I want to actually make changes to my account that bring you additional revenue, my one and only true thought is of those digits. Those sweet digits. I'm glad that you ask about them, friendly customer service representative, because they're much better than those in my address or phone number. They're even of greater significance than that nine-digit wannabe that I was assigned when I was born.

Oh 3742, 1480, 3511, and all of your kin: you do so much for me. The problem with you is, I can never get you off my mind ...

Or was it 3510?

This written work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

blog comments powered by Disqus