“Dear Norland, Sam C.,
The password for your account (scn61595) will expire in 11 days on 12/03/2015 05:02:36”
And thus begins a step-by-step guide for one of a Creighton student's least endearing habits: changing their NEST/BlueLine/CU Mail password. It is neither a complicated process, nor is it tedious, but holy cow if it is not one of life’s certainties that I would much rather do without.
I’m hard-pressed to pinpoint something that embodies a first-world problem more closely than me bitching about changing my password, but I must have forgotten to check my privilege at the door. As anyone who uses the same password(s) for their online accounts will tell you, the prospect of deviating from this practice is remarkable. I am well aware that any aggregator of Internet fraud information strongly advises against the use of a single password, but new passwords don’t just grow on trees.
I have gotten over forty e-mails reminding me that my password is due to expire since I set foot on Creighton’s campus in the fall of 2013, and through selective perception I have built up an immunity to their message. The fact that I have gotten them at 5:03 a.m. for the past few days only adds fuel to the fire that is my disdain for the entire process. Similar to checking people into the residence halls, renewing one’s Blue password is a necessary safety precaution but also serves as a thorn in many students’ sides.
So, why do I not just change my password upon receiving the first e-mail notification? For one, it takes time to devise a new and secure password. Jokes aside—temporarily, at least—it is important to put thought into a unique phrase containing various character types to keep your online identity secure. According to howsecureismypassword.net, it would take 25,000 years for a desktop PC to crack my current password, something I take a weird amount of pride in.
Secondly, I do not want to marginalize my any of my old passwords by using them for a shorter period of time than I did their ancestors. I want each and every one of my passwords to experience a fulfilling life, and extending their use to the eleventh hour is the only way to make sure that happens.
Lastly, it is far more exciting to wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, realizing that you forgot to change your password than it is to alter it between classes on a Wednesday. I will go to bed on December 2nd completely oblivious to the fact that I ignored two weeks worth of e-mails asking for a minute of my time only to jolt up in a cold sweat at 3:00 a.m. realizing that my password expires in two hours, and I could not be more thrilled.
