These GDPR emails we’ve all been getting have got me thinking. I’m not an organisation, but just by dint of having used the internet for a bit I hold a lot of other people’s personal information. We all do. I’ve therefore updating my privacy policy and terms of service.
To my son: because we have an Apple family account I can see what movies, podcasts and apps you download. This was an administrative convenience when we first set it up. Now, when you’re on the cusp of leaving home, it feels a bit weird. Similarly because we have a video camera pointing at the front door (because: burglars) I get an alert when you sneak downstairs in the night for a massive snack. I assume that’s what you’re doing because of all the crumbs and jam left on the table in the morning. If you’re doing something else, well, what’s with the crumbs?
Rest assured, I never look at the video, but I could and that seems slightly creepy. Also when you’re out past midnight and haven’t texted with an update my finger hovers over the Find My iPhone button quite a lot. Where, actually, are you? I’ve never clicked on it! But I could and that seems creepy too. I know I’ve told you all these things before but, let’s face it, you probably weren’t listening. So I’m going to tell you again, properly and then we’ll delete anything you’re not happy with.
Maybe you’ll have to start paying for The Football Ramble yourself. That, I’m afraid, is the price of privacy.
Similarly – dear wife – a confession. Once on a Sunday, you were driving home from Cornwall and I’d promised myself that I’d tidy up and empty the bins before you got home. I’ll confess I clicked on Find My iPhone to see how long I’d got. That was bad.
To my friends, acquaintances, former colleagues, suppliers of plumbing services, players of Walking Football, supporters of Nottingham Forest, Chinese oil painting suppliers. Let it be known; I have your email addresses. In some instances I have your phone numbers, sometimes because I asked for it, sometimes because it’s in your email signature. Similarly home addresses, fax numbers and favourite sayings of Gandhi or Kanye.
Some of you: I have the Wi-Fi logins of your houses, I have pictures of your kids, pets, parents, broken down bikes and lots of lots of your meals. My calendar tells me where loads of you were on loads of occasions, my apps tell me more especially if we’ve attended films, gigs and fry-ups together. I know when many of your birthdays are, though a lot of you seem to have been born on 1.1.2000.
People I have started businesses with: I have your bank account details, I have scans of your passports and or driving licenses. More scarily, I have scans of those most crucial and holy of identity documents: gas bills! And I know you have some of mine.
Some companies I no longer work for: I’m still connected to your Google Drives and Dropboxes. I still have passwords for your Twitter and Instagram accounts.
I know that I’m an idiot. Many of us are. I know that emailing copies of a passport around is stupid, but you try opening a business bank account in 2009. They’d closed all the branches but they hadn’t made the digital services work yet. They still haven’t. And it doesn’t feel any less secure than letting dodgy hotels photocopy your passport and I’ve done that all over the world. You have to.
Read more: What is GDPR? The summary guide to GDPR compliance in the UK
But, of course, it is idiotic and it’s not just my data so I am actually going to update my privacy policies and take some personal responsibility. I’m going to delete most of my email archive. I never look at it anyway. Same with Dropbox. Same with the other places information gets hidden. SMS. Words With Friends. Animal Crossing. Generally, I’m just going to be a lot more aggressive with Delete.
Of course, my paranoid friends will immediately point out that Google and 5eyes will still have everything and they’re right, but that boat sailed years ago. So my update to my privacy policy will also include remembering to vote for a politician who might hold the big tech companies to account, if a politician like that ever comes along.
In the meantime I’m going to sit down with the family, remind them of the surveillance capacity I have and see if they care.
This article was originally published by WIRED UK
