Okay, so I came into work the other day, barely caffeinated and already contemplating a fake fire drill just to go home early. I open my inbox and there it is: an email from IT with the subject line, “ACTION REQUIRED: Security Policy Update.”
I open it, thinking maybe it’s one of those “update your password” thingies—you know, the ones where you change one letter and pretend you did something.
Nope, not this time!
They want passwords to be 5,000 characters long.
You read that right. Five! Thousand! As in three zeros after the five—Characters! For a password! Not a novel, not a terms-and-conditions agreement—just the thing I have to type every time I want to check my calendar or log into the damn copier!
Okay, so I may be exaggerating about the whole 5,000 characters—more like 15 characters—but for a guy who doesn’t math well, they both share the number 5… so, it might as well be 5,000!
Apparently, someone clicked a phishing link—rumor has it Karen from Finance wanted to see “exclusive alpaca yoga photos”—and now the rest of us are paying the price.
Attempt #1: Creating the Password
So, I tried to be clever. I used everything I could think of:
- Childhood memories
- Three Jimmy Buffett albums
- My 6th grade science fair project
- The entire Top Gun movie script
- Plus a haiku about coffee
Still not enough characters! 🤬
Eventually, I copy-pasted my last three journal entries, my grocery list from 2019, and a rant I once wrote about printer ink. Success! 🥳 I finally had my 5,000-character masterpiece. I hit save, took a victory sip of coffee, and moved on with my life.
Attempt #2: Logging In the Next Day
I forgot it! 🤦
Of course I forgot it. Who wouldn’t forget a password longer than a CVS receipt?
So, I call IT. They answer on the second ring, which already feels suspicious. I explain the situation, and the guy on the other end—let’s call him Kyle, because of course it was Kyle—says, “Sure, we can help you reset it. But first, I’ll need you to call us from another phone so we can verify your identity.”
“Uh,” I say, “I only have a cell phone.”
Silence. Absolute, existential silence.
I swear I could hear the hum of fluorescent lights and a single cricket rubbing its legs together.
Then Kyle says, “Okay, well… in that case, you’ll need to come down to the IT desk… so we can visually verify that you’re you.”
They made me walk to the IT department—like some kind of peasant—just to prove I wasn’t an AI chatbot who had hacked my own brain. I had to stand there awkwardly while Kyle squinted at me like I was trying to sneak into a concert using someone else’s face.
Eventually, he nodded solemnly, like a TSA agent approving a very suspicious passport. “Yeah, you look… human enough.”
Thanks, Kyle. I, ummm… think.
The Moral of the Story?
We’re now living in a world where remembering your password requires a support group, a hiking trip to IT, and emotional resilience normally reserved for Olympic athletes.
I’m just trying to check my email, people. Not write the next Game of Thrones!
So yeah—if you don’t hear from me for a few days, I’m probably still trying to log in. Or I’ve been detained by IT as a suspected sentient AI.
Either way… wish me luck! Lol!
Crock’s Thoughts 