Okay, for whatever reason, I am reminded of stories relating to my IT work. Herewith:
Or why you should never surf porn at work
You get where this is going, right?
I have it set up so that every time someone accesses a website the firewall deems dicey, I get emailed. So the emails start coming in. Gambling sites, dating sites, humor sites, porn sites… escort sites… shemale sites… gay porn sites… and I have the static IP addresses so I know EXACTLY who’s going where.
I’m starting to get severely squicked out, sitting alone in my office with no one to share this with. And I’m apparently surrounded by men who surf the web all day. And go to some questionable places.
So Friday’s over and the weekend commences. And then, sadly, ends. I get into work and check the logs. Now keep in mind that there are only a few people who work on the weekends. Two, in fact.
One of them surfed porn sites—pretty tame—and one of them surfed hardcore gay porn. He’s married with four kids. Although let’s just say I wasn’t surprised.
So I kept the web open and casually monitor access throughout the day. By the end of it, I had called up my partner, completely disgusted, and turned on the filter. I couldn’t deal with thinking that everywhere around me men were looking at naked chicks.
No one was ready to admit that they were suddenly being blocked. It took hours for someone to get brave enough to ask me what was going on. I have no idea if anyone knew that I was monitoring it, but a few guys looked pretty sheepish around me for awhile. I still have the logs. I will always have the logs.
And the IP addresses.
Speaking of offenders, I have a story about one of the biggest:
Or How to Lose Any Hope of a Severance Package
And what, pray tell, did I find? Oh, not much. He had been running another business instead of working for us. Which we knew. And it appeared to take up most of his time at work. Which we also knew.
What we didn’t know is that he had also been soliciting escort services whilst at work. Not only THAT, but he had saved (and I still have) an email sent to a few escort services to arrange a “date”, explaining that it was a surprise birthday present for a friend who would be “pleasantly surprised”. The address—you will be unsurprised to learn, dear reader—was his own.
Other highlights: an email to a middle-aged couple in Duluth looking for a threesome. That was a classic. Also a series of emails back and forth between his longtime girlfriend. She had kissed another guy and they broke up for a bit. Plenty of angry emails. Although the exchange that took the cake was a quick, “Hi, honey. I have a sore on my lip. Do you have herpes?”
Yeah, he did. He always left his prescription on his desk.