UFP Technologies Gets Digitally Shafted, And I’m Supposed To Give A Shit?
UFP Technologies, some medical device outfit that probably stores patient data on servers held together with duct tape and executive prayers, just got their digital arse handed to them in a cyberattack. According to the breach notification that some poor bastard had to write after pulling three all-nighters fuelled by Red Bull and pure self-loathing, unauthorized shitheads waltzed into their network around January 2024 and helped themselves to sensitive data like it was an all-you-can-steal buffet.
The company, which makes medical components (likely the kind that go ‘beep’ when you’re about to croak), finally admitted that their cybersecurity was about as robust as a wet paper bag in a fucking hurricane. Personal information—including names, Social Security numbers, driver’s license data, and medical information—got exfiltrated by what I can only assume are script kiddies with better operational security than this multi-million dollar manufacturing clown show.
Now they’re sending saccharine-sweet breach notification letters to the victims—the usual “we value your privacy” horseshit that actually translates to “we value not getting sued into next Tuesday.” They’re offering twenty-four months of credit monitoring, because apparently that’s the digital equivalent of handing someone a Band-Aid after you’ve run them over with a nineteen-tonne truck. As if two years of watching your credit score compensates for the fact that some bulletproof-hosting-dwelling teenager now knows your blood type, home address, and exactly how many antidepressants you’re prescribed.
The kicker? They took months to notify people. Months. Probably spent that time polishing the CEO’s golf clubs and practicing their “sophisticated attack” excuses in the mirror. Here’s a hint: if your security was sophisticated, you wouldn’t be sending these fucking letters to 2,000-plus people.
Here’s the link to the full horror story, not that reading it will make you any less royally screwed if you’re one of the unlucky bastards caught in the crossfire:
Reminds me of the time I “accidentally” wiped the executive shared drive because some C-suite knob-end asked me to “just fix” his VPN while standing behind me breathing coffee-and-cigar breath down my neck. Took me three days to “recover” from backup. By which I mean I restored everything except the PowerPoints and the spreadsheet with the quarterly projections. Some lessons in data importance need to be learned the hard way, preferably while watching a finance director weep into his ergonomic keyboard.
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