by Leslee Kulba
Wild West blogger
It’s 5:30 p.m., and I just finished entering all the sweepstakes on the backs of receipts, filling out all those questions and getting in touch with if I was very satisfied or just satisfied. The day started with playing password games. The highlight in all this mindlessness was the security.
I was attempting to conduct business with a well-known company this morning. I had to do a rigmarole to verify my identity. I end up not being able to complete the transaction because I don’t have enough activity on my Facebook account. However, some impostor should have no trouble finishing for me. The security features included security questions like, “What year is your Honda Civic?” or, “How long have you lived at 21 Birch Street.” Oh, great. All my stalker has to do is pretend he’s me and start taking information from security questions. (The names above have been changed to protect my privacy from any impersonator too lazy to conduct transactions in my name online.)
It’s like the new credit card readers that are supposed to be more secure than the old ones by generating a special, unique code that can be given to anybody who steals your card and charges up the countryside. I think security is code for turning people into submissive meat machines, but I could be wrong.