The Numbers Are Out to Get Me!

This is a long one, so if you like a good story, or if you're fascinated by how the human brain does (or doesn't) work, curl up with a cup of coffee with this one.

With my previous employer, on my first day on the job in the new location, I was escorted to the security office where they took my picture for a security badge. When I was given the badge, it was handed to me in a pamphlet with my security code. The security code was four digits, not of my choosing - as a security person, this is a good thing. I was given very strict instructions: don't forget the number; don't lose the number; you can never change the number; never forget the number.

I used this security badge many times a day. I needed it to enter the gates onto the campus in my car (although I didn't need my security code here). I needed it to get into the fenced in area of the building I worked in, which had turnstyles or mantraps in order that people can't piggyback in. I needed it to get into the front door of the building. I needed it twice more to get into the monitoring area where I spent most of my time. I used my badge and my security code upwards of 15 times a day every weekday. Although I didn't choose the number, punching it in was ingrained into my memory - muscle memory and numeric memory.

Also, I'm very good at remembering numbers. I'm awful with names, but very good with numbers, particularly numbers that come in sets with a rhythm you're used to - a 4-digit security code or PIN, a 5, 7, or 10-digit phone number, a 9-digit social security number, or even a 16-digit credit card number. When we go on long trips, others survey the landscape, trees, lakes, sky, or even the animal shapes the clouds make. I work out the math on the mile markers on the road with the odometer, calculating how long it will take us to reach the next milestone, major city, or state.

One morning, after having worked in this building for about 6 months, I drove onto the complex using my badge to get in the security gate. I parked my car, got out, walked to the turnstyle, where I used my badge and entered my security code. I entered the building from the back door, using my badge and security code again. Then I went into the monitoring facility from the back entrance, using my badge and entering my security code again. I set down my laptop, turned it on and plugged it into the network. While it was booting, I went to the mens' room.

When I went back to the monitoring facility, I swiped my badge and entered my security code. Nothing. Swipe, digit, digit, digit, digit. Nothing. Swipe. Digit....digit...digit....digit.... Nothing.

I walked around to the other side and went to a different set of doors into the monitoring area. Swipe, digit, digit, digit, digit....nothing. Somebody happened to be walking out who recognized me and let me into the vestibule (this is not secure, by the way - this is why mantraps and turnstyles exist). In the vestibule, I went to the next card reader. Swipe...digit...digit...digit...digit...

Nothing....

A coworker happened to be coming out that way and let me in - again, not secure. I got that really, really sick feeling in my stomach that I get right before I'm about to hear really bad news, and I was expecting to hear that I was fired. I logged into my workstation - phew! If I had been sacked, the first thing that would've happened is that my network access had been revoked. So I figured I had somehow been punching in the wrong security code. So just for grins, I pulled out the pamphlet that I had hung onto for those 6 months with the security code. You'll never guess what I saw there....

Gibberish.

Utter foolishness.

It was as if those four digits were written in a foreign language. When somebody reminds you what time a meeting was, you thing, "Oh! That's right! Now I remember!" When you're reminded of somebody's name, your response is, "Of course! How could I forget!"

When I saw those four digits on that pamphlet, that was not my reaction. When I saw them, I thought I had never seen them before in my life. I wasn't pleasantly reminded that I somehow transposed digits two and three. I was looking at four digits that had no more meaning to me, no more context, made no more impact on me than if I was driving through a random neighborhood and picked a random house and looked at the house number on the street. I might as well have been reading the license plate of somebody I had never met.

There were two really odd things about this. First, I had used the security code successfully not three minutes before it completely vanished from my memory. Second, I didn't get "reminded" of the digits at lunch time. I had to learn them all over again. I basically had to re-program them into my memory.

What reminded me of this is that I don't select my PIN's for my debit card, voicemail, or library card. I keep them in a password database. But since I'm good with numbers, if I use them with any regularity, I remember them. But tonight, forgot my PIN for my debit card. Fortunately, it doubles as a credit card, but as soon as I opted for the credit option, I remembered my PIN.

But I will never forget the day I completely forgot four digits. Completely.