Virginia Wind - From Where I Sit October 2004

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Email Michelle at clooliss@hotmail.com.

Backseat - From Where I Sit

October 2004

Say the Magic Word

Let’s all face it - we can’t live in a fantasy world 24/7. However, it helps to visit there from time to time - especially if you live in the daily grind of northern Virginia, where you are constantly bombarded with noise, traffic, crowds, deadlines and unrealistic expectations. It is no small wonder that a fantasy world has so much more appeal than a life where Monday blurs into Friday. Sometimes the unfairness of it all is thrust in your face and the inevitable happens as the two worlds collide.

It was Tuesdayish (who knows? Weekdays are all the same to me). I was at work and all I wanted to do was log into my computer so I could begin my morning routine. I faced the screen, hands poised over the keyboards when it happened – my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t remember any of my passwords, the keys to my weekday existence. Without them, I was nothing. With them I was all powerful - able to create spreadsheets that could move hundreds of thousands of dollars with a single keystroke, create presentations that could bring you to tears (of boredom) and write memos that would set the standard for all future memos and be quoted for years to come. Yet, at that very moment, I couldn’t remember a single password. Not one. I log in automatically every morning without thinking but for some reason on this day my fingers refused to type and my brain wasn’t helping to fix the situation.

Reality wasn’t working for me, so I decided to take a more fantastical approach to come up with a password. So I contemplated for a moment and decided to type in “hotbikerbabe” (Hey, it’s MY password and MY reality.) A warning flashed on the screen “invalid password”. I was insulted but undaunted. I tried again with “eyecandy”. Same result. I was beginning to wonder if the computer had enough artificial intelligence to be making a personal comment. I began to sweat as I realize I only have one last chance before my computer threw me out completely. In a desperate act of defiance I angrily typed in “mymotorcyclewouldnotrequireapassword” and I swear I could hear the computer laughing as the stupid thing comes back with an arrogant “too many characters” and summarily locked me out.

I growled louder than a Harley engine and my coworkers ran to my cubicle to see what was wrong. Actually, they were already bored with day and were glad to have any distraction whatsoever. (Entertainment is cheap in the world of cubicles.) Before I knew it, I had a small congregation in my tiny space. Rather than worry about my computer woes, they began chatting. As usually happens, someone mentioned to a newcomer in the office “Michelle rides a motorcycle.” This little fact always seems to amuse people. The newcomer (who happens to probably be closer to folk’s real world view of “eyecandy” than I am) gave the typical response “She doesn’t look like a biker” as she looked me up and down in search of some tell tale sign. “Sorry,” I responded with exaggerated sympathetically, “I can’t show you the secret biker tattoo in mixed company.” She stared at me. I could see the confusion register in her mind as she was trying to decide if I was joking or not. She waited for me to clarify. I didn’t.

After a few moments of silence she responded slightly condescendingly with “You wouldn’t catch me on a motorcycle.” How I was I supposed to respond to something like that? First the computer tells me that I am invalid as “hotbikerbabe” and now this complete stranger adds insult to injury by implying that I was invalid as a mere cubicle worker. Well, “hotbikerbabe” wanted blood, but reality dictated the need for continued employment so I just smiled.

At this point I decided that arguing with the computer was preferable to continuing with the current conversation, so I turned around, picked up the phone and dialed the helpdesk where I was promptly put on hold. As the elevator music played, my mind drifted away once more from reality to a world where all I had to do was say the magic word and my night in shining armor would appear over the horizon and we would ride off on another adventure where money was no problem and everyone in the entire world, even the computer world, loved bikers. Alas, I couldn’t remember THAT magic password either.

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