When numbers don’t add up

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As a busy lady, one thing certain to wind me up is wasting time.

Spending valuable seconds, minutes and hours on something and then having absolutely nothing to show for it is not only annoying but intolerable.

I feel guilty about even reading a book these days. I don’t know why as I love reading, but it just seems so indulgent.

But, the incident that has brought about this column is that I recently spent a good half hour trying to set up a banking app on my phone.

I had had it before, but due to some kind of malfunction with my “smart” phone, the thing disappeared.

So, while trying to re-install it, I was asked the following - what’s your username, what’s your nickname, tell us your password, what’s your memorable password, do you know your security number, personal pin and recognised image?

Now I don’t have the best memory, I admit, but has security gone mad?

It’s just gone too far and I bet there’s worse to come.

“Tell us characters 12 and 75 from your memorable number.”

“What word rhymes with your favourite food when you were four-and-a-half?”

“What number do you get if you add together your mother’s date of birth and your father’s first pay packet?”

Anyway, I tweeted an angry complaint to the bank concerned, telling them that I was unable to get through the security to get my credit card balance.

Yes, my credit card balance, a number which I ironically never forget, infact it sometimes keeps me awake at night.

It’s remnants of a spending spree I had in around 2012, so I decided it was time to get serious and pay the blasted thing off instead of just servicing it with the same measly amount every month.

And the best way to do that was to track my progress and see how much I was paying off by having the “handy, convenient” app.

Tweeting, I have discovered, is a terrific way to complain, and there was a helpful customer service assistant on the phone to me soon after.

“Let’s get this sorted for you, Mrs Livingstone. Can you confirm your date of birth?”

I duly did, along with my address and credit card number.

“All sorted,” she chirped, “so log on with this temporary password and then re-set to something you’ll remember.”

Finally, I was in, and I had a look at the balance which looked a little different. It now seems that I have also completely forgotten about the spending sprees in 2013 and 2015 as well.