Opinion: Verified By VISA Can Fuck Off Back To The Hell From Whence It Came

Can we all just take a moment to acknowledge how fucking annoying Verified by VISA is?

Here's the thing: most of us have room in our lives for, what, like three passwords? Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, and the one you use for everything else. Or, if you're like me, just the two passwords - and on a trial and error basis, it takes a maximum of two attempts to login to literally any online account you have.

It's a fool-proof system.

And yet here I am, just after ordering - I dunno, say a Yankee Candle - online, after the monumental effort that was inputting my credit card details (and the God-forsaken CVV three-digit security code at the back of the card - the last digit of which has inexplicably been eroded by the very bowels of my wallet), when I'm confronted by the following screen:

Ah, what is this bullshit?

Look, I'm not convinced I ever signed up for this, but I'm so close to owning a Yankee Candle that I feel compelled to persevere.

Let me put in one of my usual passwords.

No joy.

I'll try another one.

Wrong again. I can see where this going.

Surely it has to be this other one, then.

No, yeah, this is totally fucked.

The 'Forgot your password?' button is a confusing temptress, illuminated slightly to let you know it's there in times of trouble, but still hidden enough to warn you of the potential shit-storm of forms and fill-ins you're waddling into if you click on it.

You think better of taking the plunge, opting instead to re-enter the most likely password from before, on the off chance you made a balls of it the first time you tried it.

Moments later...

I mean for the love of all that's good and pure.

Verified by Visa and it's clown-ass cronies such as 3D Secure are especially painful for those, like me, who have been anointed the unofficial role of 'family online buyer,' whereby your mother - terrified of 'them hackers' - slaps her card in your hand to make an online purchase for her from, I dunno, GroupOn?

Naturally, she won't have a bull's notion what her Verified password is, and knowing too well how badly things go wrong when you play the guessing game with this difficult, mythical beast, you look to reset her password.

After six or seven attempts, she finally remembers her email address. Things are looking up. We might actually get over the line here.

And then, the 'reset' page.

'Please enter your credit limit, and also please explain the meaning of life as told in terms of pi in the Captcha box below'.

It's all over. Your mother holds you personally responsible, throwing spiteful barbs such as,

I thought you were supposed to be the technical one in the family?

Fuck you, Verified by VISA. You think you're Paypal, but you're not. You're nobody's pal, you stupid asshole.