When I was 13, I went away to summer camp for a month. I left my shiny new Dell PC that I had received for my birthday, and told my little brothers to promise to God and cross their hearts that they would never ever even think of turning it on. Or trying to figure out my password. Or going online. These are any teenager's worst nightmares. Of course, like all little children do, they smiled cutely and nodded. Reluctant but reassured, I left. I had no idea what awaited me when I returned.
When I came home from camp, the first thing I did was check to see if the rugrats had listened. I turned on my Dell, and to my surprise, waited ten minutes for it to boot. I ground my teeth and tried to log in. Just as I entered my password, my mom called me for dinner. I left, figuring that I'd be using my computer after dinner.
Two hours later, my computer was still frozen on the welcome screen. Frustrated and twitching, I unplugged and replugged the power and Ethernet cords, and finally logged in after 30 minutes of desperate praying. I sighed with relief.
As my desktop loaded, I felt my face go pale as 20 icons entitled, "free ring tones" or "online casino free" popped up. I ran all of the antivirus programs that hadn't been disabled by the malware, and after a couple of hours, found the computer clean. At least it seemed clean. I dug out my USB key from my desk drawer and installed all of the antispyware programs that I had placed on it, such as Ad-Aware, Spyware Blaster, Spybot - Search & Destroy, and HijackThis.
I was too tired to get mad at my little brothers, who had enlisted my uncle's help in cracking my password (the hint was a complex mathematical question). After a couple of tries, he figured it out. It turned out that my little brothers had begged and begged my uncle to let them use it, and he agreed. My account was the only account on the computer, and it was the administrator account.
Ad-Aware found over 3,000 instances of spyware. In horror, I opened Internet Explorer to find 15 toolbars clogging my home page, which also had been changed. Firefox wouldn't open. I spent the whole morning booting up and crashing. Finally, I gave up. I removed my hard drive from the computer and bought another one. My total loss: two weeks worth of time, $300, and my USB key, which is now infested with more malware than I can describe after I plugged it into my computer.
There's only so much you can do when leaving your valuables in the care of family members you're not sure you can trust. You gave it a good shot with a complex password and a stern lecture to sly siblings before leaving for camp. When the computer became infected, you fought valiantly with the right passel of tools. Yet the expense, lost time, and building aggravation still could have been averted if the wee mischief makers had respected your request.
The way we see it, Tehun, you've got two options: either tar and feather your family, or take this as an opportunity to play the benevolent teacher. Your cheeky uncle unethically accessed your computer, but you can counsel your brothers to do less evil by teaching them the nasty ways of spyware. Consider a mandatory lesson about malware as necessary penance for their troublemaking, especially if they're still misbehaving with your newly refurbished computer. Next time they infect your computer with spyware, let them know they can foot the bill.
If trust issues persist, consider disabling your computer entirely the next time you vacation, taking the battery with you. It would also be a choice time to reconstruct your password, throwing in character and case combinations that even a mathematically-inclined uncle wouldn't be able to guess after a few tries.
| 1/10/07 | No escape |
| 1/3/07 | Grandpa's ghost PC |
| 12/27/06 | Hurricane havoc |
| 12/20/06 | Tug of war |
| 12/13/06 | Tough love |