I would make a terrible spy or secret agent. I discovered this today. Lucky for me, I recently deleted all my applications to the CIA, the FBI, the ATF, and other like-lettered agencies. However, I will now debrief you all on my harrowing encounter with spy work.
My mission: To deceive and distract a wonderful coworker who was being surprised with an honor that I am unable to discuss here or I’d have to, well, you know…Let’s just say, it wouldn’t be good for you and it would tarnish my whole I’ve-Never-Committed-Murder thing that I’m working on.
Anyway, the operation, Operation Chesapeake, involved a crabby, (but still wonderful), mark that I was to head-off and hold up for a mere 15 minutes. Under the ruse of reorganizing a spare storage room in the name of fire safety we arrived at the location and right off I knew things were wrong. The items that needed organized had already been reshelved by some juvenile, evil, double-agents. Knowing that the jig was up I tried to play it cool while doing my duty and stalling for time. My companion mentioned that I was “acting weird,” but I ignored it, while also bracing myself for the possibility that I might have to resort to hand-to-hand combat.
It was then, as the cold sweat formed on my brow and odd things were transpiring in my gastrointestinal tract, that I thought, “Geez, if this was a matter of National Security, well, crap, I’d be toast.” And when I say toast, you know I mean kaput. A goner. Finished. DEAD!
Like the type of thing where people go, “Hey, where’s Scott?” And some faceless, nameless, governmental phantom goes, “Scott who? I think you are confused. You don’t know anyone named Scott.” And then everyone just kind of goes on with their lives really believing that I never existed.
Well, as you can see, it was a close one, but I delivered the goods, (barely), thanks to the old elevator trick, (which is classified). Yet, this first, and last, mission served to illustrate why I am not good for top-secret work. I think my handlers know it too. Their numbers are already out-of-order and I am unable to reach them! Maybe I’m too honest. Maybe I’m not well-trained or even qualified. Maybe this is all a gross exaggeration of some trivial workplace silliness that I experienced this afternoon.
Or maybe this conversation never happened…