a part of me died today.
context: i'm an older millennial. (not quite a neet, but close enough)
i was leaving for work this morning and while i was making my way out, i noticed my father had the cordless phone up to his head.
dad: "i've been having a hell of a time with these people. do you know your mother's password?"
(my father sired me when he was 45, btw)
dad: "she usually leaves them on post-it notes but i can't find it."
me: "no. who are you on the phone with?"
dad: "microsoft."
me: ?
dad: "i'm trying to log onto my facebook account."
me: "who are you talking to?"
dad: "with microsoft."
i walk behind him and see the mouse cursor moving on the screen, typing in a captcha on a google account.
me: "they called you? how did you find the number?"
dad: "it came up on google."
i grab the phone.
me: "you're with microsoft?"
[pause]
indian guy on the other end: "no"
me: "who are you with?"
[pause]
indian guy: "we are helping with the email!"
i hung up and hard reset the computer as fast as i could.
me: "that wasn't microsoft. i asked who they were with and they wouldn't identify themselves."
dad: "..."
dad: "okay. but i found the number on google."
me: "no, that's not who they were. it's fine, just leave the computer off until i get back."
dad: "okay, but is my email okay?"
me: "it's fine, just leave the computer off."
i went to work; i came back. i examined the computer.
all our passwords had been extracted from firefox - helpfully catalogued in an xml file left on the desktop. i must have walked out right in the middle of the act.
the moment i walked in my dad was joking about the incident. "your inheritance is gone!" me: "oh no!"
i walked by my mother and she gave me a wide eyed look conveying something like: "oh my fucking god."
i didn't manage to make eye contact here, but if she read me correctly, what i was saying was:
"he's gone."