Rolodex rules

You can still buy them because more people than you think still use them. They were ubiquitous office organizational tools before the advent of digital contact managers. The brand still exists offering a wide variety of office management tools and devices. The one device however that put Rolodex on the product map was the folder laden, rotating, alphabetical contact card desktop organizer. I never used one myself, but it seems most of the rest of the world could not do without one. The Rolodex.

You see, at sixty-seven I remember when the office was a place where people physically gathered for clerical work. My father was a senior clerk in a provincial government office. My mother worked in a university admissions office. Now “office” is a TV show, and a software suite in which contact management is done through software  tools, increasingly online.

Such electronic organizers are necessary for me at least, with one particular caveat. Everything requires passwords, including the digital organizer itself. With a Rolodex desktop filing systems, no password required. You contact the world as your fingers do the flipping, only to find Mary, the landscaper, Tom the investment advisor, Rick the trendy spiritual guide, and Uncle Ernie. No need for memory; just the ability to physical scroll in order to connect with one’s particular world.

If there is a disconnect between good old fashioned contact organizers and today’s ever expanding increasingly complex digital universe, just the other day I discovered a wonderful synchronization, a meeting of old and new, a new solution for an age-old problem using a traditional technology.  Here’s what happened.

For various reasons, including scams, additional hardware configuration challenges, and coordination of my mobile devices, I have had to spend way, way too much time updating, inventing, and recovering passwords. I am a reasonably intelligent and organized persons. Passwords however slay me. (And don’t get me going on two-factor authentication — I look forward to the day when a drop of blood will guarantee secure connections.)

As I tried to set up a new digital account with The Atlantic Magazine I met with obstacle after obstacle, a prolonged series of frustrations that lasted for days. Initially I tried engaging the bot on the website. It refused to connect me with an agent. I next sent direct emails, repeatedly. Only finally did I find a phone number. So I called and asked for a call back. About twenty minutes later an unidentified caller appeared on my phone. As I don’t respond to anonymous numbers I refused the call. Whoops! That was probably The Atlantic, which it was. So I requested another call back which I then welcomed with open arms.

My correspondent was a lovely lady from Florida who calmed me down in a motherly way. She said, over and over again, that we’d get this all fixed up. Seems I used one email to register and a different one to log in. Don’t thy this; it doesn’t work. We next entered a long conversation about passwords. “Can’t live with them; can’t live without them.” It’s like flying through any airport these days. Security checks are a drag, but they make flying safer. Passwords are a nuisance, but they make online access safer.

Our conversation around passwords moved on to password storage. I use a popular online organizer. I also have files hidden in the bowels of my desktop filing system listing codes, dates, definitions and passwords. These however require constant updating. Groan! And then, she said “you know what I use?” I said “what?” “I use a Rolodex.

After a few moments of “you’ve got to be kidding” I thought to myself, hey, that’s pretty original; and I bet it works. Wow. Old meets new; Complex technology reaches back decades for something simple. And you what. Her Rolodex does not require a password. Newer is not always better. We all use what works for us. And for her, the one who solved my complex problem with a simple solution, Rolodex rules.