I began to update client crisis communication plans to include a section on "online hacks resulting in sensitive information being shared." This seemed like a learning opportunity. And if Rep. Weiner, for his part, handled it correctly, he could emerge unharmed.  Perhaps it was naive, but I didn't consider the alternatives: that he had used and taken advantage of a real-life issue that many, from media outlets to, yes, other politicians, deal with on a daily basis -- the dreaded hack; that he would risk his career and credibility by sharing private information on a public platform. That he lied.  Millions of us use social networks to communicate with friends, share news, build business, etc. We rely on free, third-party networks to help us reach a community or an audience. There's a give and take. We don't pay for the access to these sites, and in return we give up or accommodate certain things, like allowing a third party access to personal information. That's why the hack didn't seem like such a farfetched story.  And then, the big reveal: He did, in fact, lie. Apparently the only thing he was a victim of was good old-fashioned human error. Or, as a previous IT team member liked to call these incidents, 1D10T errors (for those less tech savvy, it spells out idiot). He accidentally posted a very private photo, meant for a direct message, to his public Twitter feed.  He acknowledges that he then deleted the tweet. He didn't tweet about the mistake, just deleted the tweet and, I presume, hoped no one would notice. Only it doesn't matter. The mistake had been made in a social network where, at the time, 47,000+ people followed his account.  This is where I insert my social network public service announcement:
Since I eat, breathe and sleep social media, when I hear someone's online account has been hacked, tampered with or altered in any way I can't help but feel bad. When Rep. Anthony Weiner announced