AAdmit that you’re powerless when prompted to re-enter your password for Subscription, the meal delivery service that sends you fresh ingredients to make your own submarine sandwiches at home. After clicking on one of the “Why Hollywood Won’t Cast Tom Hanks Anymore” articles at the bottom of a website, you’ve had to clear your cache and now all your passwords, including your prized subscription, are gone. You know there is a long and difficult journey ahead.
Trust a power greater than yourself and click the “Forgot Password” button. Somewhere, up in the clouds, there’s a benevolent being who might let you back into your subscription account so you can change your recurring order. Your fridge is full to the brim with Black Forest ham, and you don’t have room for more. But this whole ham is nothing good without a sauce on honeydew wheat or a spicy mustard sauce?
Surrender yourself to the all-powerful webmaster who sends you the authentication codes, recognizing that only by His grace can you stop the self-destructive habits that cause you to pay $139.99 weekly for cold cuts more than you can afford I had to shut myself down. It’s also best if you just surrender yourself to the fact that you’ll never feel good about getting calls from your credit card company so soon after your first payment. He said a scammer had bought “suspicious amounts of sodium”.
Search fearlessly in your own email inbox, including spam folders. Sift through emails from all the subscription services you’ve signed up for without entering even basic information about their terms of service. Consider how you could have bought your father’s pontoon when he retired, if only you’d remembered to cancel your free trial of Sock-Tober, a one-month subscription every October that collects annual payments. Horror is the subscription service. Good thing Bram Stoker socks start a lot of conversations. Well, you start a lot of conversations about them.
Admit to the webmaster, yourself and god that you are not getting the authentication code. Is it possible that you signed up using your old email address? You know, that email that locked you out a few weeks ago when you tried and failed to enter the password three times with oily sub-fingers? While you’re at it, admit to your wife that you know why raccoons are making your trash cans such a mess: You’ve been throwing away uneaten bags of Capocolo to hide your shame.
Call the customer service line of your previous email provider and ask a representative to clear your locked status and all defects in your character. Not to mention that the end game of all this labor is the 8-inch Parmigiana.
Ask to speak to a manager of customer service representative about removing your character defects. Rehearse what you are going to say in your mind when you are transferred and then don’t say any of it.
In anger, politely hang up the phone and list all the customer service representatives who have harmed you. Then once you know this password, make another list of the types of sub-groups you will create.
Improvise directly with the neighborhood raccoon to tell your wife, “They’re disgusting creatures that eat garbage,” when you know they’re looking for the same refined meat selection as you. Since there’s apparently no way to cancel a subscription, you’ll be seeing them a lot in the coming months, and staying on good terms will help.
Continue taking a personal inventory of your fridge. What else can you do with just salami? a casserole? Bake one? Maybe some kind of meat pie?
Pray and meditate on what your password may have been. That’s how your headspace was when you signed up for “The Works” plan and entered all your credit card information into a website that promised to “give you the good kind of meat sweats.”
Get awakening as a result of this meditation. The password for your subscription account and email was “SleeplessInSalami”: a combination of your favorite Tom Hanks movie and your favorite food. Boy, isn’t the universe weird? And hey, you know what’s even weirder? All those unused substar points you just destroyed. You are entitled to a discounted case of sopressata.