The Court has witnessed many failures in its distinguished career, but MEMORIZING A FOUR-DIGIT CODE is not exactly asking you to recite the Magna Carta in Latin while juggling flaming disclosures. You stood in that driveway like a scarecrow with a dead rectangle, utterly helpless, while somewhere in the cloud your entire professional identity waited to reboot. And then — THEN — you opened that door to find a man in a BATHROBE, which The Court must note is the universal uniform of someone who was absolutely not informed of anything, accompanied by what you describe as an aggressive chihuahua but what Reginald recognizes as a tiny vessel of justified rage. I myself once forgot my garage code after a particularly intense episode of House Hunters International and had to sleep in my Camry, so I understand the shame, but I did not then attempt to conduct business while a small dog screamed at my ankles. The sellers cited concerns about professionalism and honestly The Court is concerned they were being GENEROUS. Your phone did not betray you — you betrayed yourself the moment you decided that a device that can be bricked by a software update should be the sole custodian of your ability to function as a human being. Reginald has seen enough and must now go charge his own phone because this ruling has made him anxious.