One of our eMazzanti clients told me an interesting story about his grandmother, the ethical hacker. I would like to share it with you, the way he told it to me.
They say that there is nothing new under the sun, and boy, let me tell you, I can attest to that. As a CTO in one of America’s top government offices, I have seen it all. At 1:00 a.m. , all the major heads of technology were met with helicopters landing in their backyard, flashing lights in their driveway, and well-dressed Secret Service men standing at their door.
My wife and I have learned to sleep through flashing lights and weird noises since my grandmother moved in a couple of years ago. Our bedroom is just down the hall from our living room, a place where, when time permitted, we would enjoy theater-quality movies on our 10-foot TV. Well, now, in the middle of my Kelly Wearstler living room sits a 1979 Sam Maloof rocking chair and my grandmother, who has no concept of time.
When I lay in bed at night, I can’t help but watch the shadows of light from my precious TV pushing their rays through the door jams like the northern lights, calling me to La La Land, but not before the most contagious outburst of laughter and song, “Call it dumb, call it clever, ah, but you keep on forever. That’s a guy that’s only doing it for some doll, some doll, some do…ll!”
Back to the present. Hypnic jerk or being startled awake by my beloved 4 ft 2-inch tall pound cake lover? You be the judge. “Harold, some fellas here to see ya!” I hear my grandmother coming towards our room.
I jump up to look out the window. Something is definitely wrong. Pulling my arms into a robe that comes as far as my elbows, I realize that it’s my wife’s, but I slough off to the door anyway. My grandmother, fearless as ever, is at the door telling my grandfather’s old jokes. “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta!”
I stand over her curiously, wondering if I was getting ready to relive the movie Day After Tomorrow. The officer looks up, “Harold Spector?”
“That’s right,” I reply.
“You and your grandmother are wanted in the Situation Room at 0300.”
“My grandmother!” I exclaimed in total confusion. “This precious lady right here?”
“Yes sir. Mrs. Adaline Spector has some experience that we feel would be helpful.”
My grandmother, still unfazed, moves toward her room and comes out with a roller bag. Given my experience and position, I know that the best thing to do is zip it. I dress and meet her at the door. “Oh, Harold,” she whispers.
At the Situation Room
Piling into the corridor of the Situation Room, my grandmother is welcomed by the Head of Security!
“Who are you?” I struggle to whisper, staring into that sweet little face.
“I’m your grandmother, cookie,” she says.
“God help me,” I whisper.
Clearing his throat, the head of security starts speaking. “The United States Government network infrastructure is being compromised by the nation’s smartest hacker groups. Mrs. Spector, the last time we caught you whitelisting your dinner recipes through our fences, we negotiated two free ethical hacking fixes.”
It was as if someone knocked the wind out of me. “Last, last, last time…”
“Oh, Harold,” she touched my face.
The head of security starts again, “That’s what we have here, a breach in our fencing. There are unauthorized users accessing our data. With the access they have, if they get any further, we’ll be in a state of emergency.”
“Oh, I can fix that,” grandma says, rising up from her chair. “Take me to conference room 2. Harold, follow me; you might learn something.”
I helped her get her roller bag on the table. “You know, Harold,” she starts, “you and me, we are the same. Smart! I only have one thing against ya. You White House Technology gurus think high price means security. The world’s in trouble because you guys have billion-dollar servers, fencing, this, that, loddie-do-wah.”
“Grandma, they can hear,” I protest, weakly.
Cheekily, she says, “Did you hear him say send me to Conference Room 2?”
“All right,” she continues. “So what we have in this bag is quick security.”
“Grandma, this is a WatchGuard Firebox network security appliance,” I sigh.
“Hey! Harold! Don’t hate the game, hate the player.”
She takes out her gaming mouse and keyboard and plugs it into the computer system, and all I can think is that I do not know this woman. I help her get the firewall set up, and she pushes it back under the cabinets.
“Why are you hiding it?” I ask.
“Because you people can’t believe that something so simple can change the world,” She says.
“What are you doing now?”
“I am adding eCare network management, eCare Secure route, MXINSPECT, and cloud backup.”
I groan. “You can’t add services from eMazzanti Technologies without a bid.”
She turns and glares at me. “Are we in a state of emergency or not? I handled the hackers and closed the fences, and now you have security. By the way, I’m the hacker.”
“YOU!” I shout.
“Listen,” she says as a matter of factly, “I wouldn’t have done it except Jen from the White House kitchen needed clarification on the sauce for the salmon. It was Saucy Susan ‘Spicy’ Peach Apricot. Anywho, all is clear now.”
Maybe I can permanently relocate her to the Situation Room, so I can get a full night’s sleep.
