“The doctor, the writer, the garbage collector,
felt up and fingerprinted waiting for the train.”
—Metric, “The Police and The Private,” Live it Out (2005)
My doctor and I have the same initials and virtually indistinguishable signatures. This has led to a few awkward moments with new pharmacists whenever I’m picking up something interesting (e.g., Percocet, Vicodin). They give me this look and I know in an instant what they’re thinking: this guy’s signing his own prescriptions. But after the inevitable phone call they’re extremely apologetic. This may not be a problem for long because signatures seem to be on the fast-track to extinction.
I was fingerprinted for the first time in my life today: at an amusement park! Yes, that’s right, I was fingerprinted at La Ronde. Such a surreal experience. They no longer ask for signatures. Only photographs and fingerprints will do. One day, in the not-so-distant future, we’ll being saying to our grandchildren: “You know, when I was your age, Pluto was a planet and signatures were a valid form of identification.”
—John Faithful Hamer, From Here (2015)