If the world continues to change, I shall consider changing my name to Adrian Mole.
I switched Credit Cards late last year. This of course caused my automatic Web-Hosting Renewal to collapse, so I telephoned the company’s 24/7 toll-free number to register the new credit card number.
Pressed 5, pressed 2 and so on, finally got through to James (probably not his real name; Privacy Act and all that, you know).
With my card in hand I explained the situation and prepared to read off the first of nineteen digits that identify the card. If you like keeping track of such things, that’s sufficient for about one and a half billion cards per person on the face of this earth.
No can do.
James isn’t allowed to listen to my new number and update my records on his computer.
Not even though I have initiated this telephone conversation, can tell him where I live, how long I have had this domain, my Mother’s Maiden Name (“Higginsbotham”, as by now every one knows) and the reed of dog odd my favorite mathematics teacher in the second high-school I attended.
James could do something for me, if only I knew my PIN number for the account.
I fire up my Microsoft Word document which holds the seventy-three Passwords thought to be current for about forty accounts.
None of the pins work, and I just KNOW that within two days I’ll have another PIN to add to the list.
We try the Billing Account, Email and Password, same problem. So James can’t sign in to my account and make the change.
Disk drives at both end continue to spin at 7,200 r.p.m. as the technology does its graceful thing of blocking progress.
In near-desperation I switch back to plan “A” and beg James to just take down the credit-card number and email it to someone in the organization.
We are friends, I point out, and we WANT to do business together, me and the web-hosting company at the other end of the company’s 24/7 toll-free number.
No can do. Because this telephone call is being recorded, and he is not allowed to LISTEN to me recite my credit-card number because the call is being recorded (presumable “to serve you better”).
I was so tempted to read off the digits in a loud voice, forcing the number to be recorded, just to see if the collapse of the company would be reported in tomorrow’s business section.
So there you go.
I went online the next time I was at the Toronto Public Library’s free WiFi ([irony] what better way to transmit your credit-card details than through a Public Communications Facility [/irony]) and now I have another email password for the account.
I am too scared to telephone the company’s 24/7 toll-free number.
So maybe my web-hosting service will just – disappear.
At least if you don’t get to read this posting you’ll know why.