As I walk down the corridor at work, they beckon to me more than the cute pictures of your kids taped to the side of your monitor. Maybe that’s because of the bright fluorescent stickies you write them on, or maybe it’s the highlight marker you’ve used to accent them so nicely. Whatever the case, I feel like I should be saying, “Oh man Bob, you’ve got a killer one ’soweho886′. Awesome dude, I could never remember that either.” or maybe “You’ve got to be kidding me, they expect you to remember that?”
In a recent visit to a state run facility, I saw a laptop issued to government personnel with not one, but two stickies full of logins and passwords. These passwords weren’t your ordinary “dog” or [insert wife’s birthday here] passwords. These were strong passwords obviously issued by a sensible systems administrator or randomly generated passwords.
The two stickies contained the logins and passwords of, whom I suppose, are the three regular users of the laptop. This particular laptop had access to a massive database of thousands of people with social security numbers, bank account and employer information and, (*ahemm* *cough-cough*), lots of other information you might associate with child support cases.
You might not think you’re important. You’re probably not. You probably don’t have user access permissions that could disable an entire system. But ask yourself, “Why did they give you a password in the first place?”