For desk jockeys everywhere, it has become as routine as a tour of the office- supply closet: the consent form attesting that you understand and accept that any e-mails you write, Internet sites you visit or business you conduct on your employer's com-puter network are subject to inspection. That X-rated message from your boyfriend? You keep it on Gmail. Your thinly veiled Web diary of soul-crushing corporate tedium? It's crafted on the MacBookyour mom bought you last year. Simple enough.
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