What's the password?

As a rule of thumb, people assume no one will ever know their password. As far as I can tell, at least four of them are incumbent upon modern American life: voicemail, email, fantasy football, and online banking. If you have a job in a cubicle, you might have between fifteen to twenty more. These can be difficult to track. That's a lot of passwords. Repetition can be critical, especially when 15 to 20 passwords expire every 90 days or so and require that you change them to new passwords that haven't been used before.

When I am having computer difficulty from within the friendly confines of my cubicle, I have to call our outsourced IT team in India. Last week, I was cursed with an error message for a password protected software. When I picked up the phone, as with past calls I've placed to my counterparts across the pond and sand, I anticipated a run-of-the-mill, painfully cumbersome, misguided but ultimately successful interaction. I was only part right.

Once remotely logged into my computer, he innocently asked in a thick Indian accent, "Ok, what's your username, sir?"

I deliberately but politely spelled it out. It wasn't until I muttered the last character, the number '0', that I realized the question that was sure to follow.

"And your password, sir?"

My head whirled around on its axis Exorcist style, only nervous and paranoid instead of a symptom of being possessed by the devil. Assistant to my right, co-worker to my left, boundless potential for passersby behind, I tried to stabilize the volume and cadence of my voice. I needed to get this done in one take. No repeats.

"D--I--C--K--C--H--E--E--S--E--2...."

"Excuse me sir, did you just spell 'dickcheese 2' Is your password 'dickcheese'?"

I can only assume by the incredulity in his voice that he was not only surprised that someone would use such a password in a professional environment, but that this same person had presumably already used 'dickcheese 1'.