Page 16 of Phishing for Love
But I’m aware of Kenzie fanning herself with her notebook, Sofia digging her fingers into her thighs in a desperate attempt to contain herself, and Rick dabbing at his clothes where he snort-sprayed coffee all over himself.
It’s Thursday morning, the first day of an hour-long training workshop, and everyone at Amell Greetings is mainlining Aaron Sinclair standing coolly in front of us in his tailored dark blue shirt and black trousers.
Everyone, that is, except me.
I’m still fighting the urge to not snort, too. Does the man not hear what comes out of his mouth? How is he maintaining a straight face?
So far, my one highlight of the session involved Aaron informing everyone that I wasn’t the only idiot who fell for his mock phishing attack. Looking decidedly unimpressed, he pointed out that analarming numberof employees had clicked on his compromised links. His clarification may have come a day late, but I’m happily soaking up the sheepish looks directed my way.
That highlight, however, took place in the first five minutes of the workshop. Since then, it’s been a slo-mo deterioration of Death by PowerPoint.
After leveling a stern glare at a few errant giggling employees, Aaron points to a slide on the screen, explaining that physical penetration testing involves assessing a company’s physical security controls, including locks, security guards, cameras, access badges, and so endlessly on and on.
“Arrogant man,” I say under my breath. “He probably charges people just to breathe around him.”
“Money well spent,” murmurs Sofia.
“It’s important to remember,” Aaron continues, “that physical security plays a critical role in any cybersecurity program.”
I’m so bored I’m ready to stab myself in the heart.
For all his paranoia about security, Calvin hasn’t bothered to descend from the mountaintop to attend the training session. Maybe he believes business owners are immune from cyberattacks.
I sneak a look at my watch. Thirty-five interminable minutes left.
Just get through this session, I tell myself. Then you can escape to your desk, write the draft of the birthday card Enya is expecting, and head home to play with Ash. I also have dinner with Nathan tonight to look forward to.
Aaron is still droning on. “Security training allows a business to reduce risk and ensure compliance.”
“He’ll have no trouble getting me compliant,” Kenzie whispers.
Sofia sighs. “Even his clothes look grateful to be on that body.”
“You’re both a disgrace to feminism,” I mutter.
They ignore me.
As Aaron continues his presentation, I glance around the conference room. All around me, eyes are glazing over. I might not be the most computer literate person here, but Aaron seems to be a surprising amateur when it comes to reading a room. Does he not notice Rick yawning so hard his jaw is in danger of cracking? What about the contorted look on Hannah’s face as she tries so earnestly to stay awake?
The only explanation I can think of for Aaron’s obliviousness is that he lives in a universe where he believes everyone is as fascinated with all things security related as he is.
I must hand it to the man—without any medical training, he’s managed to place an entire roomful of people into induced comas. Only Mark is at DEFCON-3 alert level, sitting rigidly in his seat and taking notes like he’s preparing to sit for a quiz afterward.
Aaron shows us slide after slide, all conveying the same message about how important cybersecurity training is. (At least, that’s what I think they say since I stopped paying attention a while back.)
The AC seems to be off, and the air is so stuffy in here. I keep my eyes focused on the screen while I disappear into my head, a neat writer’s trick I’ve honed over the years. I think of Ash and how cuddly he was this morning. It’s hit and miss with him. One second, he’s rubbing himself affectionately against me, the next he’s sunk his claws into my calf because I’m taking too long to dish out his kibble.
My thoughts turn to the barbecue at my parents’ place this Sunday. Mom has instructed me to bring a salad and I let my mind wander to all possible salad options. I could do a potato salad (Dad’s favorite) or a green goddess salad which Kate is partial to, or...
“Tess! Tess Miller!”
Someone is angrily calling my name.
It sounds a lot like Aaron’s voice. But why does he sound so annoyed? On second thought, scratch that. Annoyed appears to be his default attitude when it comes to me.
Then I hear the snickers.
To my growing horror, I remember where I am (conference room), what I’m supposed to be doing (participating in a training workshop), who is here with me (nearly all my colleagues at Amell Greetings), and what I’ve done (fallen asleep in front of everyone).
