What Was That Number Again?

As I looked at the keypad in front of me like I had hundreds of times before without ever experiencing a problem, I began to wonder if I’d suddenly aged thirty years overnight. This was because the following was happening in my head:

Me: All right brain, what’s my PIN?
Brain: Excuse me?
Me: My PIN? What’s my PIN? I’m trying to get some cash here.
Brain: Why should I know what your PIN is? Sheesh, you woke me up for this?
Me: But you always know my PIN! Why wouldn’t you know now?
Brain: Maybe because you’ve gotten so annoying, what with all of the continual asking for things over the years without so much as a thanks, that I just got sick of it all and sort of lost it? Ever think of that, smart guy?
Me: Um, no.
Brain: Then maybe you should. Now leave me alone. “Ice Road Truckers” is on.

And so, I walked back to my car empty-handed, having forgotten my ATM PIN for the first time in my life.

This is not a fun experience for anybody, because it’s a reminder that eventually you’ll become one of those old, forgetful people who constantly finds themselves asking their brain for information that it refuses to yield, such as:

“Where are my glasses?”
“Where are my keys?”
“Where are my pants?”
“Why am I standing in a carwash in a state that until moments before I’d believed I’d never been to?”

So, as I drove away, I was understandably feeling pretty low. However, before I’d gotten too far, a string of numbers popped into my head! My PIN! That was it! I gleefully turned around and went back to the ATM. Feeling very relieved, I confidently put in my card and typed in the code, which was immediately rejected.

Me: Um, I thought this was my PIN.
Brain: Maybe I just decided to give you your locker combination from middle school.
Me: You’re a jerk.
Brain: Pretty much.

When I got home, yet another string of numbers popped into my head, which I was certain was my actual PIN this time. I wrote them down, and even though they looked a little strange, I still felt pretty confident about it.

Now, you probably don’t need me to tell you that when I tried it the next day, it also got rejected, which basically turned me into a sobbing wreck who could do nothing but stare at the ATM, wondering why life was so unfair.

With nothing left to lose, I decided to try one more time. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, reached out my hand, and allowed my fingers to be guided by what I hoped was The Force, or at least some watered-down derivation thereof.

Suddenly, the screen changed, and I was in.

HALLELLUJA!!! TAKE THAT, STUPID BRAIN!

Anyway, it was a good feeling, and I’m pretty sure that my PIN has been burned so deep into my memory by this experience that I’ll never forget it, no matter how ornery my brain becomes.

The other good news is that I’m pretty sure the reason I forgot it in the first place wasn’t because I’d turned into an old man, but because of simple disuse. Lately, I’ve been using cash less and less – despite anything I may have said in any of my previous postings – which means that my trips to the ATM have become further and further apart, which would easily explain why my PIN had dropped significantly in the priority queue of my memory.

And so, all’s well that ends well, especially when I get a blog entry out of it.

Except I think it’s probably time to change my PIN. The website says I should do so every six months for security purposes.

{Sigh.}