Chapter 5. Security & IAM, it Starts Day 0
Did I tell you I’m from Texas? Yeah, born and raised. I grew up in the city, but my grandfather was a cattle rancher, so weekends and summers were filled with horses, cows, cowboy hats, and boots. I still have horses at my house in Mississippi, though I’ve avoided hints from the family that it might be fun to have some cows. I also still wear cowboy hats, jeans, and boots. Some habits die hard.
This one time, I got sent to teach a course in Irving, TX, for a big communications company. I got out of my Uber, put my cowboy hat on my head, and headed to the front door of the building. When I entered the lobby, this broad-shouldered titan in a security guard uniform stepped out in front of me. I’m not a small guy by any measure, but this guy made me look tiny. He pointed a bratwurst-sized finger at my head and in a voice waaaaayyyy down deep said, “I’m sorry sir, but hats are not allowed in ...
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