Josh Freed: Online security is becoming a little too secure for me


I must change my vast number of secret 12-letter passwords so often that I have more passwords than spies do, along with more security questions than all the joint chiefs of NATO.

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Read on!

I hope you enjoyed accessing this column so easily, because it won’t last. Those easy-to-remember security questions we’ve been answering for years about our first car, dog or grade school are easy for hackers to crack, too — by guessing your car was a Volkswagen and your dog was named Rover, Fido or Cat .

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As for your grade school, most have closed here in English Quebec, so the few remaining are easy to guess.

Now prepare for tougher questions. I registered with Revenue Canada online last month and their new security questions left me feeling very insecure. Among them (verbatim):

Question: What is the furthest place you ever remember traveling to in a car as a child?

I dunno. At five years old I didn’t have a map or odometer to know where we were going, let alone how far it was.

My only job was to say: “Are we there yet?”

Question: What was your favorite game as a child?

There are multiple possible answers. I liked table hockey, ping-pong, hula hoops, throwing bubble-gum hockey cards, rolling marbles and punching each other’s arms as hard as we could until one guy said “uncle.”

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I also loved staring into space for long periods and imagining I was Rocket Richard scoring goals. Yet whichever of these activities I may recall as my favorite now, I won’t remember next year when Revenue Canada locks me out for answering “Old Maid” instead.

Other questions: Where were you when you had your first kiss? hmm, I barely recall where I was for my last one.

What was the name of your imaginary friend when you were a child? I never asked, but its foot size was 111.

Who was your favorite cartoon character? Now that’s a Goofy question.

Even the simplest question — What is your favorite hobby? — seems complex, because the answer changes over time. Six months ago, everyone’s favorite hobby was baking bread; now everyone’s playing wordle. Next year we could all be axe-throwing, who knows?

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Frankly, I don’t even remember the answer to my earliest security question: What was your first car?

I recently failed several attempts to remember while trying to bank online — before the site locked me out.

Finally, I decided to get that security question changed. All I had to do was wait 25 minutes on hold for my bank, then be told I should phone another special “bank security” number, where I was put on hold another 45 minutes.

While waiting, I held my breath, hoping they’d take my call without asking me a security question about what my first car was.

As for those Revenue Canada questions, I did what everyone does when we fear losing track of our security answers: I put them into my phone, which defeats the whole purpose of strengthening security questions.

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We’re harassed by endless other security-mad stuff too, like Apple’s “two-factor” security. That’s where you must provide your cell number, so when you try to do something on your computer, Apple’s computer texts your phone a numerical code to type into your computer to make sure you’re really you.

The trouble is that recently, when I try to type their texted security codes into my computer, it won’t work. So I’ve lost access to Apple services.

Last week I called Apple, which spent four hours of my unpaid time trying to fix the problem, most of it with their “senior consultant” — who was utterly flummoxed.

Since I’d been on the phone with him for hours and answered many security questions, he knew it was me. So I suggested we humans just bypass the computer’s two-factor security and restore my Apple services anyway.

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The senior consultant replied: “We can’t do that. No one can except the computer — and it demands two-factor security.” In short, Apple security is so secure even Apple can’t get in.

Of course, that’s not the end of our spiraling online security. I must identify pictures of crosswalks, traffic lights and trucks in tests to prove I’m human, not a computer. I must change my vast number of secret 12-letter passwords so often that I have more passwords than spies do, along with more security questions than all the joint chiefs of NATO.

I am absolutely protected against anyone who wants to use my devices — especially me.

This terminates today’s column. To leave this page without breaching security, please answer the following secret exit question: What was the make of Mr. Freed’s first car?

I’d really appreciate the answer.

[email protected]

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