January 8, 2012
Well, I have officially joined the population of those who have been hacked.
I quit using an email account and never deleted it, and the password was, you guessed it, a word. So there are these machines which try every word in the dictionary to figure out the password and then voila, you’ve been hacked.
It was rather nice that the hackers made my life seem so exotic, in Spain on an Exhibition visit, whatever that is. What was nicer though, was the outpouring of contacts and offers to help. I felt so loved! I heard from people I hadn’t heard from in years, and all offering to help!
Yeah, yeah, I also heard from people who had seen me just the day before and wanted to simply alert me – which was also very sweet, the first twenty people were sweet, then I was smiling through gritted teeth to thank the next twenty and pretending it was sweet. No, it was sweet, sweet like the 50th piece of chocolate is sweet, sickly sweet and you wished you had stopped on piece – oh, I don’t know, 49?
And, of course, I was at work, where I did not have access to my private email. Though everyone believes I live an exotic life, visiting Spain and being mugged, I actually still live in the 20th century. You know, I’m not embarrassed by this because the 20th century was not that long ago. And, still living in the 20th century means I do not have a wi-fi phone and do not carry my personal laptop everywhere I go, and even if I did, I go to McDonald’s or Starbucks when I do need wi-fi. And still living in the 20th century, I am amazed every day when I go to work and I am not allowed to log on to my personal email from my work computer. I am actually blocked, crazy fascist computer controls at work. Like as a teacher I could be answering personal emails, yeah, because 9th graders are so good at entertaining themselves without hurting each other or damaging classroom property. Yeah, now I understand why I’m not allowed to check my email on my lunch or breaks. That makes sense, if you live in Stalin’s Russia!
So, I spent the day, at least my breaks and lunch, calling and texting everyone to let them know I was fine. And I am fine. Actually, better than fine, because I feel so loved, and so superior. I have received these messages from my friends, which I always promptly delete. I know hacking when I see it.
As one of my friends pointed out, “It was so poorly written. I knew it wasn’t you.”
Then there was the friend who texted me that I should bring him a souvenir!
This week I will smile each time I think of a person who hasn’t seen me in years but was willing to send me money in Spain.
