The swipe machine at the store asked for my zip code. I entered it. Rejected! The code I entered was a mixed bag -- a combination of the zip for a town that we once called home and the area code for where we live and work now. For the life of me I could not remember the zip code for our burg. The clerk had heard of our town -- we are, after all, only 88.5 miles from middle ground -- but didn't know the zip code. I had to get out my driver's license to find it. A strange feeling.
Something similar happened about a year ago. I entered the four-digit PIN to get in the secure door at work. Then I went to the ATM and totally drew a blank. I should have looked here -- it is online, after all. Since LohMan and I have different cards on the same account and thus different PINs, it was weeks before I could use the ATM again. Fortunately I had not destroyed the "commit the number to memory and destroy this card" card. Of course, I hadn't filed it or anything. I found it solely through serendipity.
I love the digital age but I'm tired of the digits themselves.
Something similar happened about a year ago. I entered the four-digit PIN to get in the secure door at work. Then I went to the ATM and totally drew a blank. I should have looked here -- it is online, after all. Since LohMan and I have different cards on the same account and thus different PINs, it was weeks before I could use the ATM again. Fortunately I had not destroyed the "commit the number to memory and destroy this card" card. Of course, I hadn't filed it or anything. I found it solely through serendipity.
I love the digital age but I'm tired of the digits themselves.