Rise up
Once again, the Onion makes me both laugh and wonder why I'm laughing. The biz starts at 1:35.
Reality is other people.
No matter where I go, or how lost I look, or how out of place I appear to be, and in spite of a complete inability to speak the native tongue, people ask me for directions.
My computer and operating system have this wonderful process that connects email to address books and calendars. Recognizing that addresses and dates are often sent in email, the developers were smart enough to remove the friction of cutting and pasting these things into other applications. If there's an address, the email program recognizes it, and clicking on the address will take you to a map, or add the information to the address book. Similarly, the program recognizes dates, and if you click on a date, it'll take you to the calendar and create an event.
So what does my workplace do? Sends out invitations and notifications in PDF format, instead of plain text (or at worst, HTML), which of course defeats the recognition algorithms. It's worse than it was before, because now I can't even cut and paste – I have to memorize it and copy it to the calendar by hand.
Yay?
Similarly, the computer has a wonderful search and indexing system, which allows me not to organize emails or files anymore. I just search for the term that I want, or the date, and it finds things. And because we're not allowed to use Dropbox, I'd email files to myself in order to have them available on all my computers. The search function made them easier to find, six months or a year later.
What does my workplace do? It adopts a non-standards compliant email server system [1] which apparently can't handle large amounts of email (by which I mean normal amounts of email) [2]. So they archive all emails and attachments, making them – unsearchable. They no longer exist on my hard drive. I have to log in to a separate server to get attachments. Of course this server is not available off campus without shenanigans, or at all if you happen to be trying to work someplace without a working internet connection. Like, say, the last hotel I stayed at on business. And the indexing program can't index what doesn't exist anymore.
So we're back to where we were before we started, and perhaps a bit worse. Never underestimate the power of bureaucrats and IT sysadmins to make their jobs easier at the expense of the people they nominally support, and without whom they would not exist.
Being clever, I got around this by forwarding my email to another server (still workplace, so violating no rules), which does not archive. I download this onto my computer, and now I'm back to where I was before. Except that now my email takes up twice the amount of space it did before, on their systems, and on mine. So what exactly did they accomplish here, except to make my life, and eventually, some other sysadmin's, more complicated?
[1] as I said to the email guy when I complained about this, “You say that it's standard, in the sense that lots of places use it, but it's not standards-compliant – that's different”.
[2] approximately 20 GB accumulated over 10 years, or roughly 10 TB to store email for everyone here, or call it 100 TB including backups – which is a ridiculously small amount of data these days, and it means that the system they chose is remarkably poor at its function.
You ride the bike, or drive the fun car, for weeks and months, and it all seems to be fine, everything sounds good, feels good. Then you take it in to get something fixed, broken spoke, or oil change, and get it tuned up, cause why not? It’s been a while. And when you get it back, holy cow, when you get it back, it’s a different machine. Same, but everything sounds better. Or on the bike, not at all.
It’s the same noises, and the same feeling, but better. Less. And more.
It doesn’t work like that for the Honda, or the Toyota, but it does for the fun car, and the fun bike. Maybe the Honda and Toyota are just better machines in the first place. Maybe old cars and new bikes are more susceptible to adjustment.
You notice it because it gets worse slowly, and gets better in one step. It’s probably a metaphor for something.
They’ll slowly degrade, and I’ll not notice as I slowly degrade (and notice), and I’ll have this revelation again in about a year.
Another website that requires you to create a forever non-deletable account to purchase anything. An account which contains your personal information and credit card number [1] and makes you come up with some bogus password with more than six characters, capital letter, and non-alphanumeric character, then, when you forget it, sends it to you in the clear through email.
Which means that they know your password, and that it’s not stored securely, and it’s just a matter of time before it’s hacked.
Bravo! It’s just like taking your shoes off at the airport, and just like waving the bar-code of your high-security badge at the guard who scans it, but fails to check whether you are actually the person the badge is supposed to admit.
Non-secure security, or as it’s known, security theatre.
What happens to that database when the company goes out of business, as it inevitably does? When there’s no one left to be sued, you think they wipe the disks before they turn off the lights, or is it more likely that the repo man just comes and unplugs the computers and sells them to highest bidder, untouched, with your personal information all there to see for anyone who cares to issue a mysql command?
I just want to buy something. Once. I don’t want to have an account, or a password, or an ongoing relationship. Just a fucking one-time purchase.
[1] if you can’t figure out how to handle a password reset securely, why should I believe that you are not storing my CC number insecurely, either in plaintext or unsalted hashes, and that some Senior VP is not carrying them around on his/her non-encrypted laptop? Because I read about this every damn day.
Review: Infinite Jest lite, without the sort of near-future dystopian SF aspect. But a good fast read.
Get it here. No, I’m not an affiliate.
Aphorism of the day, 6 October 2012
Google finds no hits for this except for someone that I know for a fact heard it from me, so I’m claiming credit:
“Never steal anything that eats.”
I’d call it BWare’s Law, but there’s already one of those. BWare’s Rule?
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