Hacked

In this world of technological advancement, each of us believe ourselves to be moguls of internet magic. We are not. We are morons of the magic. For months now I have commanded my Facebook page, my gmail and my Blog like a true pro. I have sailed my ship of technology through rough seas and sun-bleached skies. I have danced in the very daisy fields of computer literacy. I have managed to lose all of my information to a douche of a hacker.

Whilst trying to access my email last week I received the heart-stopping message of doom, “The password you have entered is incorrect.” My palms started to sweat, my brow furrowed, my buttocks began to clench rhythmically. Steadying my quivering hands I tried my Facebook account. Once again I was told that I had entered the wrong password. Concerned that although this was a different password to that of my email, Facebook too had blocked me from entering. After four cigarettes and a glass and a half of Old Brown Sherry I had built up enough courage to throw caution to the wind and try my blog. DISASTER! I was once again denied access.

What could I do? My very existence was compromised. Several people referred to what had happened to me as “identity theft.” Are we in such a sad state of technological advance that losing email and Facebook accounts now constituted you as being indentityless? Who was I? Had my life lost it's meaning? Was I still allowed to introduce myself as Kelly-Paige or did I now have to find a new identity? “Nice to meet you, I'm Kelly_Paige22@hotmail.com.”

One account couldn't be reinstated without the consent of the other. Nothing could be rectified until I had Google convinced that I was the rightful owner of my account. Google hated me, told me that I “did not seem to be the account holder.” How did they know? What could I do to sway their vote? Was my hacker, at this very moment, pulling the Google strings, telling the Google geeks that they in fact were the honourable members of my prestigious Gmail?

After much toil and trouble, days of frustration, several unnecessary tearful fits from the people I threw things at in my frustration, and the completion of one very crystallized bottle of sherry, I managed to recover my gmail. Celebration! My life has been recovered. My existence has been reinstated. My identity has returned. I have been reconnected to the world. My life is back on course. How very, very, sad of me.