JACKSONVILLE — It seemed like such an easy thing to do — change the password on my e-mail account.

My free, personal, yahoo.com e-mail account that I have owned for about 12 years.

I’ve changed the password at least 25 times since I started it when I was in graduate school.

It’s an e-mail account I refuse to give up without a fight.

It was hacked recently, though. In fact, it was hacked twice in two weeks.

Someone found their way into my account and used it to send links to Web sites that sell Canadian heart medications and Viagra to everyone in my address book.

It’s bad enough those e-mails were sent to former business contacts and even my dad, but when my best friend’s 18-year-old daughter e-mailed me back to let me know I had been hacked (as had she a couple of weeks before), I knew it was time to do something.

At first I thought maybe someone was somehow using my account as a spoof address. An Internet genius friend (who, yes, also received one of the fake e-mails) examined the e-mail and its source to discover that it was, indeed, sent from someone who logged into my account.

Time for me to put my foot down.

Well, time for me to log into my account and change my password at least.

Easy enough — or so I thought.

One click on the “Change my password” link showed me I was in trouble. The link took me to an AT&T login site.

When I lived in Fort Worth, my Yahoo account was linked to my AT&T account, since AT&T was my home Internet provider, and AT&T owns Yahoo.

I tried everything I could come up with as my username and password for this site. Nothing worked.

I called the phone number on the “Contact us” page and was routed to “Bob”, who had a suspiciously thick Indian accent — Indian as in Calcutta, not Comanche.

Bob was a nice enough guy, though a little difficult to understand. We managed to muddle through, and his conclusion was that he could only help current AT&T U-verse customers, and since I was not a U-verse customer, he couldn’t help me.

Someone on the service line for AT&T Internet subscribers could, Bob assured me, so he gave me the number to that line.

“Mary”, also with  an Indian accent, was pleasant and sounded like she wanted to help. I told her of my plight.

Mary could only help current AT&T Internet customers, so couldn’t help me, either, but knew someone in the customer support department could.

She was nice enough to give me that number.

I think you get the picture.

I got very frustrated after two hours and four phone calls, so gave up. I decided I would try changing my password when I got home.

That didn’t work either.

I broke down and called AT&T again the next day.

It took five more calls to Jeff, Mike, another Bob and I forget who else, all, I’m sure, in the same call center as my buddies Bob and Mary from the day before based on their accents alone.

It was also an hour and a half before I finally was given the number for level 2 customer support.

I’m guessing this is the tech support equivalent to the number to the Oval Office or something.

I think it would have taken less time and fewer calls to get through to the Oval Office at least.

Brandon from Sebastopol, Calif., answered my call. I remember where he was from because it was part of his answer schpiel when he picked up the line.

I’m quite sure Brandon was actually in Sebastopol. I could tell by his voice and accent he was almost definitely in the U.S.

Who would use Sebastopol as a “cover city” anyway?

Five minutes later, Brandon helped me change my password.

I told Brandon he was my new best friend and favorite person that day.

I’m sure he hung up the phone thinking I was nuts.

The moral of the story: I’m not sure there is one.

They say technology is supposed to help us streamline our lives, make things easier and more convenient.

I have my doubts — especially after my experience this week.