Oh, banks.
So, I come back from holiday and my keypad security gadget doesn't work (I blame the stupidity inducing cosmic rays that happened over Britain while I was wrestling my way up the Parisian league of surly waiters). I need to pay the builder. Ah, it's OK, there's a password option. Erm, what's my password? It's evidently not any of the half dozen secret questions, memorable phrases, or the telephone banking PIN number (which I don't have either having never telephone banked).
OK, I'll request a new keypad. Please enter your password, says the machine. Le sigh.
I call the bank. Please enter your telephone banking PIN, says the machine.
Do not pass go. I suppose it's secure if even I can't access my account.