Take My Identity, Please

My computer, a PC, crashed yet again last week, and as usual I called a computer-savvy friend for help. His first response was, as usual, “Get a Mac.”, but he came over anyway, as usual, to take a look. While he was entering yet another one of my passwords into some program or another, I remarked that he had so much knowledge of our passwords and such that if he were ever down and out, he could always steal my identity and empty my bank account. His reply, “I’d rather steal your identity and buy you a Mac. Then I would give your identity back.”

That got me thinking – not about PC’s versus Macs (I won’t fight that battle here) – but about the concept of altruistic identity theft. Nowadays we hear so much about how to protect ourselves from real identity theft with secure websites, clever passwords, document shredders, etc. But what if you could obtain control of someone’s accounts and get them in order, pay their bills on time, consolidate their debts?

How many times have you wished you could take over someone’s life just for a short time to make that hard but right decision for them (“Break up with him!”; “Quit that job!”; “Stand up for yourself!”) or get them through that tough battle (“I wish I could take the suffering away….”)? Come to think of it, I can think of a few times I wish someone could have taken over for me.

Maybe that’s why I loved that 90’s television show Quantum Leap in which Scott Bakula’s character would “leap” across time into somebody’s life just when they were about to experience a crisis or reach a life-changing turning point. He would have to figure out what step to take so that their life would proceed in a positive way, rather than the negative result history had already recorded. In the show, the featured characters got a second chance, but with altruistic identity theft, you wouldn’t need one.

Imagine if you were struggling with a parenting dilemma. Rather than having to be patient and persistent, react consistently, and enforce consequences, you could call Supernanny Jo Frost in, not to teach you, but to actually become you and suffer through the enforcing of that timeout. In another example, your identity could be stolen by that other mom, mother-in-law, sibling, friend, or acquaintance that always claims to know how to do it better, and they could see what would really happen. Maybe they would get more of an education than you would, for the benefit of your future relationship.

Many of us have had those moments watching a boss or colleague tiptoeing around an issue with a client or supervisor. With altruistic identity theft, you could provide the assertiveness your colleague lacks to point out an unrealistic budget or deadline, or get them that well-deserved raise.

You could call in a handyman to finish all those half-started projects by your spouse (male or female) who’s dedicated to the do-it-yourself concept but doesn’t have the do-it-yourself skills. Or tell off the partner of the friend (male or female) with the soft heart that keeps forgiving at their own expense.

Unfortunately, altruistic identity theft would only last during the timespan of the takeover. It could not lead to permanent habit or personality change. So even if you became your child for a day and cleaned his room, you couldn’t implant organizational skills or even the desire to be clean. Bummer.

With such a temporary result, it is likely that most of the problems would resurface. We would probably have to learn to be patient, consistent, and consequence-enforcing parents if we wanted to see a change in our kids. The do-it-yourselfer would find new projects to leave half-finished, the soft-hearted friend would find another ne’er-do-well to support, the passive colleague would stress out about another tight deadline. But maybe some one-time crises could be solved.

At least my friend can rest easy. His job is done. We got a Mac.

No Contact

Last week, I unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation between two 40-something women and a teenage girl. The girl was discussing plans for an upcoming trip to a less-developed country, concerned about how she would contact her parents throughout the adventure. My ears perked up when I heard one of the older women say something like, “You may not believe this but there was a time when we didn’t have cell phones and weren’t able to make contact all the time. We would have to track down a pay phone, and until then our parents just had to hope we made it to wherever we were supposed to be.”

That’s how I grew up. No cell phones, no email, no text messages. When we walked out the door, we were gone until we came back. Our parents may have jumped when the phone rang, but they didn’t spend the evening constantly checking their smartphones for messages. After-school arrangements had to be made in advance, and if things changed, our parents had to call the school to leave us a message. We carried dimes (and then quarters) in case we needed to make an emergency phone call. Now I can’t remember when I last saw a pay phone.

These days many kids have cell phones, often provided by parents who feel they can allow their children more independence if they can be reached in an emergency. But as I listened to this conversation, I got to thinking: Do cell phones actually discourage independence? Are they really serving as a kind of tether to keep us more connected? And is there an unhealthy temptation to use them as a sort of “Big Brother” device?

When my siblings and I went out, our parents had to trust we were going where we said we were. They could call ahead to friends’ houses to make sure parents were there, or drive us to the movies, but they couldn’t call our pocket an hour later and listen for the sounds of the popcorn machine in the background.

As for us kids, we had to be more self-reliant. Without mom a simple phone call away, we had to solve our own problems, find alternate resources, maybe sometimes do without. We couldn’t get advice on mixing whites and colors from our dorm laundry room or put our teacher on the line if we had a conflict. We couldn’t call mom while she was driving home from work to ask her to bring snacks over to rehearsal. If we were stranded after a game we had to find our own way home. Sure maybe it wasn’t safer, but it required some independent thought.

And what about trust? Do cell phones have a negative impact on that too?

In my work as a therapist, I can’t tell you how often cell phones get mentioned as a cause or accelerator of relationship problems. Countless clients have told stories of trust breeched by spouses looking through their call records or reading their text conversations. Would we read another person’s diary or listen in on their home phone calls as casually as we may scroll through their cell phone?

How about personal boundaries? Does the fact that we can access people all the time mean that we should have access them at any time?

Again, clients complain of partners who constantly “check up” on them by repeatedly calling their cell phones. When we call our partner’s cell phone and they don’t answer, how many of us start suspiciously questioning “Where is he?”, “Who is she with?”, or “What are they doing?”, rather than calmly thinking, “She must be busy”, “I’m glad she’s not rudely interrupting a conversation to answer the phone,” or “Oh yeah, he’s driving.” We seem to have a lot more tolerance for home answering machines than unanswered cell phones.

Maybe some of this mistrust is well-placed. Clearly cell phones can help people deceive. Instead of being chained to the kitchen by a curly cord, we can now have private unwatched conversations. Some of us may engage in more deceptive behavior like deleting call records and text messages, quieting down partying friends, or sending calls to voicemail to be dealt with later (“Sorry I missed your call, I had to turn the ringer off in the library.”) I hope that is the exception, not the norm.

My children aren’t old enough to have cell phones yet, so maybe I’m naïve, but right now I’m thinking I may just send my kids out with a quarter in their shoes.