Time to break into her bank account again. If only Christie Gold can produce the password.
Gold, an English teacher in Tampa, sits at one of the school computers after class, manifesting positive password karma. For some online accounts, she types in “aurous.” Cute, in an English teachery kind of way, since that’s a fancy word for golden and since most hackers aren’t likely to have boned up on their Latin cognates.
Sometimes, she tries “crg1966,” using her initials and birth year. Or else “corgi,” in honor of her dog Fred. Or “flamby,” the name of her big red horse. If those don’t work, she tries “corgi8.” Or “flamby8.”
“Eight is my favorite number,” Gold said.
Gold needs to check her balance, such as it is, and make sure nothing’s about to bounce. But first she has to produce yet another code. She can’t resort to any of her standard sign-ons or passwords, because the credit union insists on entry through a seven-digit number. Wonderful.
The pressure’s on. This site, extra strict, allows only one try before security measures kick in.
Gold has the number memorized. But she’s typing fast, and she grazes a 9 when she means to hit a 0.
Denied.
(Note to readers: Christie Gold shared her passwords cheerfully, promising she would change them before this story appeared. Apologies to Fred and Flamby.)
In password nation, the things we love make us vulnerable.
We rely on passwords to pay our mortgages, find a doctor, order movies, ogle naked women or men, check on our retirement funds, watch videos of our brother’s gorgeous new baby girl. Some of us even have a special code just to order pizza.
Nearly every need, want and whim demands another password. Soon it’s all too much. So we choose predictable totems of our personalities, details of adoration and obsession, numbers freighted with childhood meaning, fragments from the mosaic of ourselves.
Gold stares at the computer screen, trying not to curse her credit union.
“Please answer the following challenge question you selected during enrollment:”
“What is your favorite food?” “Chocolate,” Gold types. No. “Sushi.” No. “Pizza.” One more security question.
What street did you grow up on?
Jackpot. Gold knows this. She can still see the house in Jacksonville. It’s where she turned 8. “Hermitage.”
At once, the gates of finance open. Gold scans her account and is reassured. As she signs out, she vows to get her number right the next time.
PICKING A PASSWORD
Here’s some advice from experts:
* When you’re choosing a password, don’t rely solely on all upper-case or all lower-case letters.
* Mix in some numbers, maybe an occasional $ or & into your password. Don’t pick the numbers of your home address or your birthday or any other specific of your personal life that can be guessed.
* Don’t pick any words related to your kids, your wife, your car or your favorite Red Sox pitcher.
* Spyros Magliveras, director of the Center for Cryptology & Information Security at Florida Atlantic University, suggests avoiding anything from the dictionary. Some hackers, he said, have programs that can run through every word. [ST. PETERSBURG TIMES]
