Trust, but Verify

I wiped out my cookies. Not the peanut butter ones (though I did that too), but the ones on my computer. For various reasons I had to reset my browser, and the cookies got clobbered. By now we all have seen that foodstuff in this context, but most have no idea what it really means. At its most basic, cookies are a form of ID your computer passes on to a website to tell them it is you who is returning, That's how Amazon knows you were last looking at a new pair of sneakers, or Home Depot knows you are still shopping for a grill, or Netflix knows you are a Star Wars fan. That info enables them to show you other items inspired by your past activities. You decide if it's the ultimate in personalized shopping or a breach of your privacy.  

It's no different when money or personal information is involved. But in that case the aim is to make sure it's actually you who is trying to access your account. The cookie is like walking in the front door with your license on display: now that we know it's you, we can show you your balance or your holdings or your files. No cookie means they have no idea who is knocking, so they treat you like a stranger. 

And that's a good thing. Considering it's your dollars, you want that kind of security. That said, if you do like I did and make your computer anonymous once again, not having that cookie means you need to reconfirm who you are, usually by retyping your password. Like they said in Romper Room, hopefully you are a good Do Be, and used different, hard-to-break, unique passwords for each account. More likely you are like the vast majority, are a bad Don't Be, and used 12345678. No one will ever guess that.

But even if you have a password that is secure, it might not be enough for them to let you in. More and more sites are requiring what is called two factor verification. Basically, it's a method of confirming your identity by using a combination of two different items: 1) something you know and 2) something you have. You KNOW your password, so that's step one. To complete the second step, they turn to something you HAVE, your phone. The site texts or calls the number you have on file, and gives you a code to enter. Assuming your phone hasn't been stolen, the idea is that those two things taken together prove that you are you.

And so as I did my normal weekly tour online, reviewing accounts, paying bills, looking at portfolios, I did so as a stranger. Every single place I went stopped me at the front door, and asked me to type in my password. But by itself that wasn't good enough. It was a case of, as the old Russian saying goes, "Doveryai, no proveryai." That literally means that a responsible person always verifies everything before committing himself to an agreement, even if the other person in the transaction seems totally trustworthy. Lenin spouted a variation, as did Stalin, but it was President Ronald Reagan's repeated parroting of "Trust yet verify" during nuclear disarmament negotiations that both popularized the phrase while simultaneously pissing off Mikhail Gorbachev.

If you check my phone for Saturday morning you will see a list of text messages with strings of 6 or 8 digits, each from a uniquely cryptic origin, each with a legend stating they are only good for 10 minutes. Should I get picked up by the CIA, and they examine my communication history, they might wonder if I am an Iranian spy or Chinese agent. After all, my entire text history for that time period looks like it can only be understood with a secret decoder ring. But no, it's merely me trying to get back into my checking account to pay the electric bill.

Still, I'd rather the inconvenience of typing a few extra keystrokes to someone getting access to my accounts. And I wonder if there is applicability of this to other things. After all, you say you are my kid and want to borrow my HBOMax password. But how do I really know it's you?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to be secure. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Hot Topics

 There seem to be just two topics of conversation: the election and the pandemic. One will drive you to scream, the other will drive you to hide: you decide which is which. And talking about them together, which inevitably happens, leads you to want to both scream and hide. So if we're going to make it through these two challenges with our brains nimble but not fried, we have to find other things to discuss. We need topics which are engaging, which engender lively debate, but which don't leave you thinking that those who disagree with you are stupid or crazy. It's a low bar, but that's the state of play.  

So let's talk food.

We'll start with an easy one: are Pop Tarts a type of ravioli? The last several years have seen numerous online discussions about this. After all, the reasoning goes, it's an outer layer of dough encompassing a filling. But there are many examples of encased foods around the world which would qualify under that definition, and there is no confusion with them: empanadas and dumplings come to mind. So most would say that while it might be analogous to a hand pie, a tart made of dough with a sweet or savory inside, toaster pastries are not a threat to the Italian specialty.

OK, next: what do you call the end of a loaf of bread? That would be the first or last piece, the one that has one side of inside, the other of crust. It seems to depend from whence you came. Some, taking their cue from the animal world, call it the Butt or Rump. Scots have been known to call it the Knobby, while some Czechs call it "Patka" which roughly translates as Flap or Strap. However, most call it the Heel, while the next most popular is the eponymous End.

Should chili have beans? Now we're getting into some more contentious territory. The easiest dividing line is geographic: if you're from Texas, the answer is definitely "no," while anywhere else it's "maybe." According to the International Chili Society, "traditional red chili is any kind of meat, or combination of meats, cooked with red chili peppers, various spices and other ingredients. Beans and non-vegetable fillers such as rice and pasta are not allowed." It's worth pointing out that the ICS is based in the Lone Star State, and, in a bow to the wide world, does have other categories such as "homestyle" which includes "any kind of meat, or combination of meats, and/or vegetables cooked with beans, chili peppers, various spices and other ingredients."

Is deep-dish a pizza or casserole? Pizza is a subject which provokes impassioned opinions, and this particular piece of turf is perilous territory indeed: comedian Jon Stewart was pilloried after he called deep-dish "tomato soup in a bread bowl." Is dough with toppings enough of a descriptor, or is being flat also a criteria? Like Texans and their chili, this is a debate that perhaps only Chicagoans are truly dogmatic about.

Should boneless chicken wings be renamed? This got a lot of press recently when a man in in Lincoln, Nebraska asked the local city council to pass an ordinance requiring the relabel: "Nothing about boneless chicken wings actually comes from the wing of a chicken. We've been living a lie for far too long." Ander Christensen's impassioned plea garnered 5 million views on Twitter, showing just how deep sentiment runs on this topic.

Are burgers sandwiches? Meals, yes. But a relative of PB&J or a Club? Well, if you go by the letter of the law, the answer is "yes." Webster's defines sandwiches as "two or more slices of bread or a split roll having a filling in between." That said, when was the last time you offered someone a hamburger sandwich? So perhaps the law has to be obeyed more in spirit than in substance.

How do you pronounce "caramel?" While there's no disagreement on how to make it (melt sugar and stir until it turns brown), how to ask for it is a different story. Again, it generally depends from where you hail. In the west it's two syllables (CAR mul), while Southerners and East Coasters make it three (CARE uh MEL). 

Does pineapple belong on pizza? No, and if you think it should, you are either stupid or crazy.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford likes eating, cooking and talking about food. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Winners and Losers

In game and economic theory, they call it a zero-sum situation. It means that when the score is tallied at the very end, each participant's gain or loss is exactly balanced by that of the others involved. If you start with each 4 players each having 25 chips, there will never be more, just a different distribution of that same 100. Poker is but one example, as is tennis and baseball: you play till somebody wins and somebody loses, regardless of how many sets or innings it takes.

That's the opposite of a win-win or lose-lose situation. In those cases everyone can benefit or everyone can get hurt. Global trade is generally considered to be a a win-win: people get goods they wouldn't normally get, and the other side gets paid. War, on the other hand, is a lose-lose scenario: even if you win, you are a loser just for having gone through it. 

For most, our current situation probably enters the ledger in the last category. Even if you've managed to dodge the worst effects of the pandemic in health and economic terms, your world has been profoundly upended, and not in a good way. That said, there most assuredly have also been those that have benefited, or at least pivoted to be able to benefit even as they too have been affected. And that doesn't count those on Wall Street whose business is based on betting on market moves up or down, as they make money no matter which way things go, just as long as they go.

Some companies have benefited handsomely. With people stuck at home, Amazon couldn't ship enough and Netflix couldn't stream enough. Communications companies like Zoom exploded as everyone met online, and gaming companies like Tencent soared as everyone played online. Telemedicine firms, shipping companies and electronic payment platforms all had record volume as they became the vital lifelines that people switched to vs. being able to do anything in person.

On the other side of the ledger, the airlines got clobbered. Delta, American, United: didn't matter who had the best frequent flyer program, no one was flying frequently. Same for the hotel chains, like Marriott and Hilton. The horrific damage to the restaurant business is well documented, whether it was national chains or neighborhood favorites. No one was driving so oil and gas companies were down, no one was going on vacation so theme parks and cruises were crushed, no one was going to the movies so theaters were decimated. And the list goes on and on.

Certain conceptual changes also happened, often with upsides and downsides encapsulated in the same space. The ability to work from home was a goal many had. Now that it's here with a vengeance, we learn it's easier than ever to do, but it's almost impossible to ever take off an hour, let alone a day. Family togetherness has never been so enforced. That familiarity has made us both closer to our kin, reinforcing what we love about them, and also reinforcing what we hate about them. And not eating so much on the go as opposed to making more meals ourselves, as well as having easier access to a kitchen at all times of the day and night, has both increased our intake of more non-processed foods while also adding a quarantine fifteen.

That yin and yang is epitomized in individual companies as well, such as Unilever. The British-Dutch multinational has a portfolio of products that spans the universe of consumer goods. Its brands include Hellmann's mayonnaise and Axe body spray, Dove soap and Lipton tea, Q-tips cotton swabs and Sealtest milk. As you might expect, the personal care side of their business has slumped drastically: with no one going anywhere the demand for deodorant and shampoo is way down. On the other hand, we all need comfort food in this stressful time, and so their Ben & Jerry's and Breyer's ice cream brands have seen large upticks. 

All that means that the definition of a better mousetrap has changed. If you're building the company of tomorrow, you need a small real estate footprint (if any), no need to move people around physically around and really big electronic pipes in and out. And if you can also figure a way to deliver Cookies and Cream through the cloud, the world will indeed beat a path to your door. 

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has no plans to travel for work or pleasure. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Time to Switch?

To be fair it's a conundrum I would have faced in any given year, though it might have been on a more rolling basis. But because our control of any truly consequential item is completely impossible, stupid little nothings have taken on outsize significance way beyond their import. Whose turn it is to set the table for dinner. The water glass left on the table. The amount of laundry to be done. Were these normal times, all would be minor annoyances. Rather, being among the very few things we can control, they take on global impact.

In my case it's the shift from iced coffee to hot.

Like many who live in areas where the seasons change, I shift from a cold weather mode to a warm weather footing as the year progresses, then back again. That entails a whole host of changes. In clothing it means a shift from long pants and sleeves to short versions of both. Likewise, it's the ditching of shoes and socks in favor of sandals. And it includes the temperature of my beverage first thing in the morning. It's a pattern that has repeated and repeated for many a year, one unlikely to change unless global warming accelerates to supersonic levels.

Usually it's adapted to conform with the day-to-day activities in which I engage. In normal times, I might have to go to a meeting, necessitating the donning of a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. We might head out to dinner and a movie with friends, necessitating not just the above but the addition of a sweater. And I might have a project with an early morning start in a climate-controlled building, where a dispenser of hot coffee is set up to give all a kick start for the day.

But these are anything but normal times. Like many, my out-of-office, out-of-home activities are severely limited. There's not much need to ever put on anything other than shorts and a casual shirt every day, tempered only by the proviso that it not look too ratty on Zoom. I was heartened to see a picture of Emmy award winner Glenn Weiss directing the Democratic National Convention from his living room-turned control room, wearing shorts, a tee shirt and no shoes. If it's good enough for him, and all that.

And that also means that my morning routine hasn't varied much. Every day generally starts with me working out, followed by a shower and a cup of iced coffee while I sit outside and read the paper. A situation that used to only happen on some quiet weekends or off days, it has been the state of play nearly every day from May till now. Occasionally it might be a wet morning, so I move inside. And the odd early morning conference call means that I have to work first and read later. But the basic slate of events hasn't changed, so much so that it's become not just a sometime thing, but an ingrained and comforting habit.

Until today. While the end of summer often includes the dog days of high heat, it can also snap cooler with an early taste of fall. And that is the situation as I write this in late August. The temperature when I opened the back door and stepped outside was in the 50's. As refreshing as it was, it also portended a seismic shift back to sweaters, footwear without holes and, perish the thought, hot beverages. 

I know Labor Day is late this year. And for most that is the traditional end of summer, start of school, back to work marker. But if you are like me, it's not just a another page on the calendar, but a different mental state where you have to sharpen up and leave behind the relaxed mindset that comes with the season. 

Was I willing to make the hard turn? I resignedly pulled out a big mug and prepared to go hot. But then I stopped. Dammit, no, I wasn't giving in that easy. I went and got a heavy sweater and a hat, put the mug away and got my favorite large glass and filled it with ice. I'll wear a mask, I'll stay 6 feet away from my friends, but until the leaves really start to turn, you can't pry my iced coffee from my (admittedly) cold hands.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford only drinks coffee in the morning. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.