A few months ago, I was asked to write an article for our newspaper. I quickly agreed, found a great subject, and started. The article deadline was for a time when I had planned a trip so I knew I would have to submit early. I wrote the article and had it ready to submit a week early. Since the article concerned the activities at our local congregation, I decided to seek some validation from others members of the church.
I chose four people and sent the article to them along with a note describing how I needed their feedback so that I would not misrepresent the church in any manner. I had two days until I left. No feedback on the first day. By noon the second day I finally heard my phone “chime” that I had a message. Eagerly I opened the email files and saw that indeed I had a mail from one of my reviewer friends.
I slid the icon along and opened the mail. I saw some kind of encrypted gobbledy-goo. There were several links and lots of words about security. Hmmm… I pressed on the link to open the message. I thought, “Wow, he must have had lots of corrections or comments to make on the article.” I was anxious to see what he said.
The little circle on the top of the phone circled and circled. Finally the file opened and there was a red line shaped like an envelope with another link in it. I pressed the link and was asked to open an account. I did not want to open an account. I wanted to read his message! I thought I had done it wrong so I started over. Same results! Imagine that.
I decided to wait until I got home to the regular computer and open the mail from there. I was convinced that the weird security alert was a phone thing. I booted up my computer and got the mail program open. Yikes! Same security hoopla. This time I thought, “There must be several corrections. I hope I have time to get it all done before I leave.” The red-line image of the envelope was on my screen. I clicked on the link and was asked to join a security account. With a huff, I entered all of my information and was then told that I would receive a code to open the envelope through my own email system. Good Grief! This was getting old.
I waited and waited. Finally I saw a new message “bing” on my page. I opened it. Copied and pasted the code, said a few choice words about security systems and went back to the original mail. By now I was thinking, “This had better be a good message!” I entered the code and a new page loaded. At first I thought I had made a mistake. I had loaded a blank page. But then, in tiny 6 point font, at the top of the page was my message.
Whhhaaatttt? That’s it? Good Job! With all of the security measures, I was expecting a volume with catty comments and instructive verbiage. After all, I spent nearly an hour joining a security alert system to open this page. Ahhhh…isn’t technology wonderful. Our kindest words are protected and available only to those persistent enough to open the mail. Thank you Kenny!