Home From The Field What did she think an email address was for?

What did she think an email address was for?

What did she think an email address was for?

Working in the hinterlands of ISP support in the late nineties it was fun to talk to people still “Surfing the Web” and finding out about these newfangled computer-y what’s-it’s-…

One night, while working my beloved 4PM to Midnight shift, a woman called in and said she had an issue. Well if you have an issue, we open a ticket. So, as was procedure, I asked her for her primary email address. She said she didn’t know.

I asked her again, making sure she knew what I was asking for “you know, the one you picked out when you opened the service, the one you give to people who email you.”

“I don’t want to give you that information.”

USUAL RED FLAG: usually this means the person is paranoid, and is going to be unhelpful.

“Well, it will make the call go more smoothly as I can access issues I you have had in the past; that may help us resolve this one more quickly.”

“Can I give you an alias?”

Our ISP allowed up to 5 alias accounts, but you still had to log in with the primary account.

I said back, “Uhh you can, but then I have to trace back to your primary account and use that address. It really is quicker just to give it to me.”

“Can I spell it?”

“Uhh, sure…” Hmm this should be good.

“My email is B-I-G-B-O-O-B-S @ISP.net”

I had to resist the urge to call her “Ms. Bigboobs” for the rest of the call. Her issue was that she was traveling in Florida, and couldn’t get the DUN to connect. I worked with her, couldn’t get it to work.  She hung up, then talked to about ten other agents that night. By the end, we had all taken our turn…with Bigboobs…

Moral of the Story: be careful what you pick for your email address…eventually you are gonna have to tell it to someone.


  1. I had to give a female coworker my password many years ago, as she needed to install a piece of software under my user account for a training session the next day.  My password?  The female coworkers name + 69.  (Several years later she confided in me that she’d been more flattered than creeped out.)


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