Thank God for Ray Blanco! His diligence has saved me from an embarrassing situation.
Lollng in my final days on the city payroll, I had come to think all my to-do's were completed. But Council President Blanco has come to my rescue.
Yesterday, I received the following email from Craig Smith, the city's purchasing agent:
"I was asked by ray blanco to contact you about the dreamweaver software that was purchased maybe a year ago. Do you still have it and can it be returned to me? You can call me on my cell xxx.xxxx. Thanks! Craig Smith, Purchasing Agent"
I answered Craig immediately:
"I thought it was in one of the boxes which you signed for on my last day in the office, March 2nd. I think it was installed on my old machine, which died shortly after the new one (in the basement office) was set up. Meanwhile, I will check for it also. I know I was reluctant to leave anything of value around my old cubicle in the Econ Dev office after I found people trying to break into my machine and messing with my paper files back in May of 2005. In fact, it was these intrusions that led me to insist that Norton find me an office with a door that could be locked...and which I finally got in summer 2005. Dan"
Let me give some background.
For more than seven years, I worked out of a cubicle in the Economic Development office on City Hall's second floor. Never having had a budget, I furnished it with scrounged items cast-off by others - a couple of chairs, a bookcase, and an old file cabinet with a bumped corner that I never locked because it had no key with it. And my computer.
In all that time, I never had a problem with anyone messing with my files or computer -- until late last April.
During the Primary season (you may recall it was a somewhat heated Primary), I several times found in the morning that a person or persons unknown had attempted to get into my computer. I left it on all the time as I received faxes over it, with a password-protected screen saver which would keep the desktop from prying eyes. On several successive mornings, I found that someone had shut the machine down and rebooted in an attempt to get by the screensaver password. They were foiled because I had a boot password also.
But it was troubling. Then I noticed that my files appeared to have been gone through. Those of you who remember my cubicle will be smiling as you think of the stacks of research materials, piles of printouts of drafts of flyers, brochures and other promotional items, and mounds of mail and memos being processed.
Whatever things looked like to a casual observer, I knew where everything was (just like W. C. Fields in The Bank Dick) -- and whether things had been touched. They had.
I spoke with Norton Bonaparte, then the city administrator, about the problem and insisted that in the reshuffling that was being planned to merge the Planning Division into the Economic Development office's space, I be found an office with a door that could be locked, since I sometimes had to work with confidential files in preparing press releases and study documents for the Mayor or department heads.
In the meantime, I decided that it was not a good idea to leave anything of value lying about my cubicle.
Learning early on from the lesson of Walt McNeil, Al McWilliams' first city administrator, who had a brand-new laptop stolen from his locked office one night, I had never kept the digital camera I used overnight in the office.
I now went through my drawers in search of items that might be tempting and found the fax software I had personally bought for my computer and the 'Dreamweaver' software I had gotten in anticipation of being given the time and the direct assignment to work on a redesign of the city's website.
Off they went, in a plastic bag, into the trunk of my car. And there they stayed, soon completely forgotten about.
After sending the email above, I look around and found nothing at home but the handbook for my city cellphone. Then I looked in the trunk of the car, where I kept a plastic milk-case for shuttling homework back and forth from the office. Had not looked there for months!
Lo and behold, there was the plastic bag with the errant Dreamweaver software (link will take you to pictures of all items) in its original box, now somewhat grungy...but complete with the CD, the manual and the original packing list which showed the software had been shipped in July 2004.
Now, you should know this is a powerful tool and expensive stuff -- something on the order of $800 as I recall -- and I certainly would have included it in the materials for which I had Craig sign a receipt on my last day in the office had I not forgotten about it.
But all's well that ends well. I sent the following message to Craig Smith this morning:
"Craig-- I stopped by yesterday afternoon, but you were not available. I will bring the software in this morning. Thinking about it, I believe it had been installed on the old computer (whereabouts now unknown), but never activated online as required. That should mean that whoever you are giving the software to should have no problems installing and activating it. --Dan"
The software is being returned later this morning.
Now, can anybody find out what happened to the expensive piece of equipment I hear disappeared from the PCTV-74 offices after new personnel took over there?
"I thought it was in one of the boxes which you signed for on my last day in the office, March 2nd. I think it was installed on my old machine, which died shortly after the new one (in the basement office) was set up. Meanwhile, I will check for it also. I know I was reluctant to leave anything of value around my old cubicle in the Econ Dev office after I found people trying to break into my machine and messing with my paper files back in May of 2005. In fact, it was these intrusions that led me to insist that Norton find me an office with a door that could be locked...and which I finally got in summer 2005. Dan"
Let me give some background.
For more than seven years, I worked out of a cubicle in the Economic Development office on City Hall's second floor. Never having had a budget, I furnished it with scrounged items cast-off by others - a couple of chairs, a bookcase, and an old file cabinet with a bumped corner that I never locked because it had no key with it. And my computer.
In all that time, I never had a problem with anyone messing with my files or computer -- until late last April.
During the Primary season (you may recall it was a somewhat heated Primary), I several times found in the morning that a person or persons unknown had attempted to get into my computer. I left it on all the time as I received faxes over it, with a password-protected screen saver which would keep the desktop from prying eyes. On several successive mornings, I found that someone had shut the machine down and rebooted in an attempt to get by the screensaver password. They were foiled because I had a boot password also.
But it was troubling. Then I noticed that my files appeared to have been gone through. Those of you who remember my cubicle will be smiling as you think of the stacks of research materials, piles of printouts of drafts of flyers, brochures and other promotional items, and mounds of mail and memos being processed.
Whatever things looked like to a casual observer, I knew where everything was (just like W. C. Fields in The Bank Dick) -- and whether things had been touched. They had.
I spoke with Norton Bonaparte, then the city administrator, about the problem and insisted that in the reshuffling that was being planned to merge the Planning Division into the Economic Development office's space, I be found an office with a door that could be locked, since I sometimes had to work with confidential files in preparing press releases and study documents for the Mayor or department heads.
In the meantime, I decided that it was not a good idea to leave anything of value lying about my cubicle.
Learning early on from the lesson of Walt McNeil, Al McWilliams' first city administrator, who had a brand-new laptop stolen from his locked office one night, I had never kept the digital camera I used overnight in the office.
I now went through my drawers in search of items that might be tempting and found the fax software I had personally bought for my computer and the 'Dreamweaver' software I had gotten in anticipation of being given the time and the direct assignment to work on a redesign of the city's website.
Off they went, in a plastic bag, into the trunk of my car. And there they stayed, soon completely forgotten about.
After sending the email above, I look around and found nothing at home but the handbook for my city cellphone. Then I looked in the trunk of the car, where I kept a plastic milk-case for shuttling homework back and forth from the office. Had not looked there for months!
Lo and behold, there was the plastic bag with the errant Dreamweaver software (link will take you to pictures of all items) in its original box, now somewhat grungy...but complete with the CD, the manual and the original packing list which showed the software had been shipped in July 2004.
Now, you should know this is a powerful tool and expensive stuff -- something on the order of $800 as I recall -- and I certainly would have included it in the materials for which I had Craig sign a receipt on my last day in the office had I not forgotten about it.
But all's well that ends well. I sent the following message to Craig Smith this morning:
"Craig-- I stopped by yesterday afternoon, but you were not available. I will bring the software in this morning. Thinking about it, I believe it had been installed on the old computer (whereabouts now unknown), but never activated online as required. That should mean that whoever you are giving the software to should have no problems installing and activating it. --Dan"
The software is being returned later this morning.
Now, can anybody find out what happened to the expensive piece of equipment I hear disappeared from the PCTV-74 offices after new personnel took over there?
-- Dan Damon
* 
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