You know how you work in a particular field or industry, and your knowledge of what goes on in your work doesn't stop at 5.30 on a Friday? If you were in printing, for example, and your beloved excitedly brought home the latest holiday brochure, the first thing you excitedly looked at wouldn't be the infinity pool or the ski chalet, but the thickness of the paper the brochure was printed on.
That's how it is in cybersecurity.
Which is a good thing in most ways because we like to think that our families and devices are protected from those nasties that can affect everyone else. The problem is … we can't just leave it alone.
I met with Rob, our Head of Content, at a hotel in Berkshire a couple of weeks back for a catch up. He was seated there in the lobby, laptop at the ready, about to order our coffees.
Instead of "Hi, how are you doing?", he greeted me with "Guess what I just saw?". Apart from a passing meteorite or Lady Godiva riding through the reception area in all her naked glory, I admit that I was stuck.
Rob recounted "Two guys just walked in, went up to the receptionist and said they needed to get into the computer room to 'do something'". The receptionist clearly hadn't been forewarned of their arrival, and called the IT guy, who duly arrived and in turn, seemed unprepared for their arrival. "So he just shrugged his shoulders and told them to follow him to the computer room," continued Rob. One of the visitors was wearing a sweatshirt with the embroidered logo of an IT company on the breast. Like when you don a white coat in a hospital, you're a doctor.
What's the worst that could happen in the computer room? The server being infected with some spyware, perhaps. All of the guests' personal and payment card information being stolen maybe. As long as our cappuccinos arrived in the next five minutes, it really wasn't our concern, a point which which Rob reluctantly agreed.
Nor was it our concern when later, a robust, fifty-something, pinstripe-suit-and-no-tie type and his twenty-something, tall, blonde female companion got up from their coffee table and disappeared for about fifteen minutes. Not our concern where they went to, nor, more to the point, what they left on the table. His mobile phone, taking a well-earned sabbatical from his barking voice. And her laptop, screen open and emails and Office documents visible in all their glossy-screened glory.
"What would I do if I were a criminal?" I asked myself. It would have like been like being a kid in a candy store.
By then, Rob and I were on our second coffee, so again, it wasn't our concern.
Careful or paranoid? It's a fine line. The truth is, you can be paranoid, but you can't be too careful.
