The company that had me sign such an agreement is at liberty to check up on my Internet usage in any way it can. And even beyond the traces left on the user's own machine, there's an abundance of tracking software available. In the server room of one of my part-time jobs I noticed that a program called Gatekeeper displayed all the Internet usage in the office as it happened. I sat and watched people send e-mail, buy and sell stocks on e-trade and download pictures of Celine Dion. If I had wanted I could have traced this usage back to the individual user. Even though everyone in the company signed the same form I did, I know they all still, unconsciously or consciously, expected that they were not being watched, in the same way one assumes that a phone call to a spouse or friend is not being monitored.

That expectation is natural -- even more so in the case of a dean -- where the home is also, essentially, the place of employment. So what should those technicians have done when they stumbled on those pornographic files?

In my tech-support work, when I have noticed things that I knew someone wouldn't have wanted me to see, I have certainly tried to pretend I didn't see it. I try not to make judgments, knowing that my own Internet "research" has certainly been suspect at times.

How much privacy can any of us expect? According to the law, the answer is "none." The only thing an employer must do, by law, is make sure its Internet policies are non-discriminatory. Otherwise it can monitor, view and read anything it wants to.

And yet, at least amongst the tech-support people I've known and worked with, we will respect your privacy even when we don't really have to. I have never been given a job description where one of my duties as a desktop support person has been to notify my supervisors if I see anything suspect on someone's computer. I would never take a job that required me to do so. The idea of "anything suspect" is suspect in itself. Suspect to whom? If it were up to me, I'd allow game demo downloads, which many companies might frown on -- but crack down hard on visits to unicorn lore Web sites.

My own discretion hasn't protected me from the suspicions of others. Recently, someone I work for sat me down, and, Internet usage agreement in hand, pointed out the various bullet points that I had either overlooked or simply decided didn't apply to me. He told me I was no longer allowed to use the Internet for anything other than work-related issues -- which, as a computer tech guy, I had admittedly defined pretty broadly. He also informed me that I could no longer send any personal e-mail, and that the Internet existed, at least within the boundaries of this company, as a resource for the business at hand.

On the surface I accepted defeat -- and even felt somewhat embarrassed and guilty for doing stuff that was natural to me, as much a part of my everyday, workday life as coffee breaks and reading the newspaper in the bathroom. But in my gut I felt that something was terribly awry. I was having a privilege taken away from me that everyone else at the company, either spoken or unspoken, had. I knew all about the extent of not-nearly-work-related Internet usage that took place in that office, and I was sure my supervisor did as well. But I was made an example.

Humbled, I slunk back to my desk and went to the Microsoft Web site, figuring my boss couldn't very well argue that was for personal reasons. After this incident, I decided to read the fine print of our Internet usage agreement. The company's policy, had I taken the time read it, was very clear: Any Internet use was subject to being monitored and if necessary, traced back to the person. While I accepted its right to do this, I felt appalled at its willingness to do it.

Had the Harvard dean ever signed such an agreement? The Globe didn't say, and unless the matter somehow winds up in court we probably won't ever know.

Discretion is a virtue. The right to privacy in the workplace is no right at all -- but there is a certain unspoken agreement that we all have some freedom of movement, some freedom of personality and thought. The computer has complicated this, creating strange slippery slopes and new hidden pitfalls.

More and more, then, we should all expect to be signing documents like "Internet usage agreements." They are a kind of baptism that really just names the sin to come.

Your tech support staff may behave differently from me. But if I see anything, I will be your priest -- your secrets will remain between you, me and your Temporary Internet Files folder.
salon.com | May 21, 1999

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