Barbara J. Hamby

Vanishing Numbers

Today at the doctor’s office, my automatic memory failed me. I attempted to make my co-payment with my debit card. There was a delay while the receptionist punched in her numbers. Then she handed me the little machine to put my PIN number in. My head emptied itself onto the carpet. Numbers spilled in all directions. If any of them were the right numbers, they seemed to be in the wrong order. I stood there a few minutes waiting for the errant numbers to find their way home. Now totally lacking confidence, I pulled out a credit card and paid with it. I was able to remember my name when it was time to sign. This sequence of events occurred around 2:45 P.M.

About a half hour ago (8:00 p.m.) I began looking through my bank files to see if I could find the card with my PIN number on it. I don’t carry it with me or write the number on anything I carry with me for obvious reasons. As I shuffled through bank statements and correspondence, four numbers began to dance in my head. In uncertain order, they seemed to be taunting me. Somehow I knew they were the right four numbers, but I could not remember the mnemonic device I used to arrange them. But, by now I was too tired to panic, so relaxed enough to recall the correct order of the four numbers. At least I think I do. I’ll have to go to the store tomorrow to be sure.

It is reassuring to believe that an identity thief would probably have as much trouble as I did trying to locate that elusive PIN number. They probably have some method of random entries that will eventually produce the correct number. I would like to think that several incorrect entries would set off an alarm or eat the card or some such thing. I know when I enter more than two incorrect versions of a password in my computer I’m cut off and not allowed to make more attempts. Usually I’m encouraged to change the password, which I often do.

I must remember to punch in my PIN number quickly and automatically, and not try to think consciously what the number is.