Posted in computers, writers, writing

Go Daddy Made Me Cry


I’m not a baby. And I’m not emotionally fragile. But the poor dog had to try to figure out why I was yelling obscenities (“Not you, baby!”) and sobbing at the computer today. The digital world is just too much for me sometimes.

I saw the first email from Go Daddy weeks ago: “Your domains are about to renew.” I looked at one of those emails to determine that yes, I still do have two domains on their server and they will be billing me soon. I even remembered that the credit card in my account was no longer valid. I used to change all my billing information on every site that bills me automatically every time my credit card got cancelled due to fraudulent use. But it’s happened too many times in the last 6 months, so I just decided the last time, “They’ll let me know when it doesn’t work and I’ll give them the new one.”

So sure enough, I got an email on Sunday that my credit card couldn’t be charged and my domains had expired. OK, not to panic. I just need to log in and give them a new credit card number. I got into my account and tried to insert a new credit card number. It just wouldn’t take. So after several attempts, I backed up and chose bank account and gave them the information for my checking account. At least that isn’t likely to be cancelled. So they had what they needed to bill me, but what appeared next was a menu of financial options—all of them much higher than what I have been paying on automatic renewal. So I figured I’d better call them.

At least Go Daddy still has a phone number. Still calm, I listened to the recording. “There is a 25 minute wait,” said the automated voice, followed by “please verify your PIN.”  PIN? I’ve never had a PIN for Go Daddy that I could remember.

So, frustration mounting, I decided to go to the “chat” option. The written message, easier to swallow than that syrupy female voice that actually said, “we’re so happy to take care of you,” nevertheless announced silently that there would be an 18 minute wait. I did other things while the words in the box counted down, “you are number 160,”  “you are number 130,” until I finally heard a human—who wanted to know my PIN. I told her I didn’t have one and she sent me to the login page to find it. Except when I got there, I was required to login and my password didn’t work. AND the chat was gone when I tried to go back.

That’s when the cusswords and tears started flying. “Am I going to spend my whole day on this?” I went back to the phone option and after only 10 or 15 minutes of waiting, during which I got myself under control–sort of–I connected with someone very calm and patient who helped me reset my password. I believe part of my problem was that the password I was trying to use wasn’t long enough. Go Daddy now requires it to be nine digits with one upper case, one lower case, numbers and, and, and. And the nice Go Daddy man (I wonder if he is a Daddy?) told me it would renew at the old rate and I would receive an email verifying that.

It’s several hours later, during which I have battled one other online account, discovered the last password I had for another no longer works, and failed to give the right answer to my own security question. I haven’t received a verification from Go Daddy that my account is up to date. But that’s enough swinging at windmills for one day. Time to go see if the reset of my modem for my wifi worked and to sink into the cushions in front of the TV with a glass of something to dull the pain.


I live in Napa Valley and write humorous essays, poems, and short stories. I have published three books: My Leash on Life; Foxy's View of the World from a Foot Off the Ground; Leavings; and Laugh and Live, Advice for Aging Boomers.

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