by David Biggs
I know the internet and other forms of electronic communication are supposed to connect us to the great big world out there, but I’m afraid it all scares the hell out of me. I seldom open my iPad or cellphone without the nervous feeling that something nasty is about to jump out at me.
I receive messages ordering me to change my password, for example, then when I try to change it I am told the new one is invalid.
I recently wasted most of a day trying to create a new password that I didn’t want anyway because the old one had been working perfectly well up to then and had the added advantage that I could remember it.
The creature in my computer kept rejecting my suggestions for a new password and sending me an “OTP” or “one-time password” which flashed on to my screen for a micro-second and then vanished before I could make a note of it.
I ended up with seven OTPs, none of which did anything useful.
Eventually I shut the machine and poured myself an anaesthetic. If anybody wanted to communicate with me urgently enough they could send a runner with a cleft stick. It would certainly be more reliable than the postal service, which doesn't work at all any more.
Three times in the past two days I have been phoned by a voice that sounds likes Peter Sellers doing his Indian imitation. The voice tells me it is checking on a possible card fraud and asks if I have recently made a card payment of R3 000 to somebody in Nigeria? No I haven't, I say, and how do I know you aren’t just another fraudster?
The fake Peter Sellers then tells me to look at my card and see the “long number on the back” at which stage I quietly hang up my phone in case he asks me for my password.
I realise I’m probably being paranoid, but I come from a generation where real people communicated face to face and signed their names in ink without needing passwords. If some lucky person in Nigeria has received R3 000 from me, I don’t think I’m clever enough to have stopped him.
I’m considering drawing out all my money from the bank at the beginning of each month and paying for everything in cash. I think that’s what my grandfather used to do and he seemed to manage quite well. The problem is that when I go to draw out my money the bank will require a password.
Last Laugh
A scruffy tramp approached a businessman in a rough part of town and asked for money.
“If I give you money you'll probably just spend it on booze or gambling,” the rich man said.
“No sir,” said the hobo. “I never touch alcohol and I do not gamble.”
“Well, I’ll give you some money if you come to my home with me.”
“What for, sir?”
“I’d like my wife to see what a man looks like who never drinks or gambles,” said the rich man.
* "Tavern of the Seas" is a daily column written in the Cape Argus by David Biggs. Biggs can be contacted at [email protected]
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.