If you’ve ever rolled your eyes heavenwards when confronted by some poorly-tested website then you’ll enjoy this—is life too short for you too?—what you must accept from strangers—the little blue number from hell—e-currency for psychics—Confucius, he say.
M: Well, it’s not. Not a real advert that is. Which is a pity. We can’t help but feel that there is something of the “Italian motor” about the Pecunix web site: it looks good in the showroom, but it falls apart when road tested!
Picture a person with an interest in procuring e-currency, but with no interest in what lies underneath the bonnet of his browser. Well, that’s our friend Luigi to a tee (he’s also a little short-tempered, so if you’re offended by expletives read no further). He was curious about e-currencies, so we gave him the web site addresses of a few e-currency issuers. Let’s eavesdrop on his thoughts:
Pecunix! Pecunix! Sounds-a nice. Let’s-a set up a Pecunix account: www.pecunix.com. … It says-a press “Open” and then “Next Step” to create account. Easy peasy! … It says-a read terms and conditions then press “I Accept”. … Well … Ah! Life, it’s-a short. Let’s just-a press “I Accept”.
Terms & Conditions
T: Now and then you do hear about the existence of people who read the T&Cs on websites, but like most urban myths, the person who tells you about this strange, aberrant, and deviant behaviour has never witnessed it for himself. When he’s pressed, it always turns out to be “a friend of a friend”. Now, of course, Morpheus and I do read these things, but only on your behalf. They’re so abysmally boring! A speech by Billy-Boy seems positively riveting, by comparison.
Now, another easy to understand screen. Enter-a password. Enter-a again to confirm. Enter-a email address. Press-a “Next Step”.
Bugger-a! Back at the T&Cs screen again. … Guess I-a must-a mistyped the password on repeat. Can’t-a tell since they’re all asterisks. Here-a we go again. Just entered the password for second time. I was-a very careful this time. Should-a be alright now.
Shit-a! Shit-a! Shit-a! Back at the T&Cs screen again.
What you must accept from Strangers!
M: And so it goes on. Luigi, our poor, would-be Pecunixie tries strategy after strategy to scale the Himalayas of the Pecunix password screen. Shall we tell Luigi what’s gone wrong. Well, his browser does not have cookies enabled, very common in these security conscious days. Now Pecunix needs cookies enabled in order to progress beyond the password entry screen. Nothing terribly wrong with that you might say. Why Pecunix shares this requirement in common with many other sites. However, what it does not share in common with many other sites is its disinclination to tell the poor frustrated user that the reason why he cannot progress any further is because he is doing what … “My mama said to me”. Try logging into www.yahoo.com without cookies enabled, for example, and you’ll be told the nature of your sin, so that you can repent, and seek forgiveness! So what did our gold digger have to say when we explained all this:
Them Bastards! Bastards! Bloody-a bastards! I-a spend hour typing in-a password after password and now yus-a telling me it has nothing to do with passwords!
T: I’ve just thought of a suitable advertisement for Pecunix:
No hacker will ever break into a Pecunix account! … Why? … Because no would-be user will ever be able to create one!
The Little Blue Number from Hell!
M: Well, we showed Luigi how to enable cookies in his browser. So, a little disgruntled to say the least, Luigi is now making a second attempt to scale the towering fortress of the Pecunix account creation process. Success! He’s got past the password screen this time. Let’s listen in again:
Ha! Now it’s-a personal info screen. Easy! And to finish off I just-a click on the button with-a number that’s same as da blue number in da little box. Click! … Now that was-a not so bad. … Hmm! … Browser’s-a slow … Browser’s-a very slow.
Oh! Bugger-a! Bugger-a! It says-a “Done” down in left-hand corner. But it’s-a done nothing. … Maybe I-a click on wrong number. Try again.
Ah! Shit-a! Still nothing. … Maybe I misread number. It sure look-a like a “four”. I-a know, I’ll-a cancel the login process and start again. Get a different number next time.
Some minutes later Luigi has once again reached the personal info screen:
Ah! It’s-a clearly a two. Can’t-a be anything but a two. Click!
Oh! Shit-a! Shit-a! Shit-a! Still-a no bloody response! … Maybe-a my computer it’s-a locked up. Bloody-a hell! Let’s-a reboot and-a start from scratch.
Some more minutes later, bruised and battered by the climb, our hero has fought his way once again through to the personal info screen:
I-a so tired of typing in the same data, again-a, and again-a, and again. Click!
No! No! No! Sweet-a …
We regret to inform you, dear reader, that we’ve had to expurgate what followed in order to preserve the blushes of our most generous sponsor, Miss Prune of Pune.
E-Currency for Psychics
A Moral to the Story
We think there’s a moral to this story. Confucius, he say:
If market share much less than that of e-gold, wise e-currency issuer not make strenuous effort to drive away new business!