"Not that I know," I answered truthfully. But then, since I don't log in to the network, I wouldn't know. Still, one of the hundreds who do would have made it my business to know, with some expectation that I take a SWAT team across to ICTS to make them fix it immediately.
I suspected something else was at play, though. "Did you follow the ICTS instructions and confirm your user account?" I ventured, and the reply sighed through loudly. "No. It didn't work and they're never there when you phone. They seem to think we all work secretarial hours. Don't they know that we teach, we sit in meetings, we do research, we supervise graduate students, and by the time we get to our office to read email they've gone home to feed their cats?"
I made a note to log a call, suspecting there would be others. There were. "How are we supposed to log a call if they've gone home and unplugged our network access?" I pointed out gently that one could still use the web interface without logging on to the LAN, but frayed tempers wanted sympathy rather than solutions, so I cranked up the volume on my iPod and let them rant.
Yes, of course "we" all would have done it differently, and I'm also sure that this isn't the only Faculty where several HODs were too busy during the two-week-odd window to follow the instructions with an ICTS consultant on the other side of the phone line so that they could report the error messages as they popped up, and I also doubt that the theoretical seventh of academic staff on sabbatical, the unknown percentage of women staff on maternity leave and the others away for various other reasons at this time all managed to make alternative plans to have their details captured by the system. But, this having happened this way, we now have to deal with the fallout.
Horse tranquilisers, anyone?