Dang Me. They Oughta Take a Rope …

By Jim Hagarty

I just now tried to log on, using my phone, to my bank account, to see if there was enough there to let me buy a chocolate bar.

I plugged in my password. Off to the next screen.

I was asked a security question. No problem, I was sure.

But this was the question:

“What is the name of your oldest?”

My oldest what? Child? Friend? Dog? Pair of slippers?

What the hell?

I guessed oldest child. Plugged in the name.

I failed.

I won’t try again as I know I will be locked out.

Maybe they wanted my oldest swear word. That’s on the tip of my tongue.

It’s “Dang!”

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.