When I turned 40, some friends threw a birthday party for me. There were the usual gag gifts, including a cane with a bicycle horn on the handle, a box of Depends and a neck lanyard with a notepad on which was written, "Old Fa.." We all drank and laughed and teased each other shamelessly for hours. It was all great sport.
There was no sport in this past weekend, for someone stole my cellphone.
It's my fault. I was out of town, laid it down for a minute, and when I went to retrieve it, the thing was gone. I checked with Lost and Found repeatedly over the next few hours, and each time they swore that it had not been turned in. I think they lied.
Terrified, I called my cellphone carrier. After straining for a half-hour to understand the "customer service representative," he (I think) relented and killed the phone.
I got back to town and immediately went to the cellphone carrier's store. A cheerful 12-year-old f .. er, allowed me purchase a replacement at a laughable discount.
The next few hours were spent at home, restoring the new device. I soon concluded that single-malt scotch was invented for just this occasion.
The new phone wanted passwords for everything: mail, social media, subscriptions, etc. Being a proper technology consumer, I used different passwords for most things to guard against identity theft.
Being over 40, I could recall very few of those passwords. So, being over 40, I had written the information down and stored it in a safe place. But, being over 40, I forgot where that safe place is. And, being over 40, I had suspected that this would happen one day, so there was a back-up copy, in code, stashed in another secure location: my underwear drawer.
I visit that location daily, and had often wondered what that envelope was. It was addressed to "Dumb A.." Inside were several pages written in gibberish. I quickly figured it out. Funny how terror sharpens the mind, even one over 40.
The new phone is operational, charged, synced up, backed up, GPS tracked, and encased in a booby-trapped Hummer.
Now, to find that lanyard ...
