26 Sep 2007
The day the federal agent paid me a visit
So the Feds paid me a visit at home today. What? They really did. Welcome to another day in the life. Fortunately or unfortunately I wasn't home. So instead, I recieved a note stuck securely to my door from The U.S. Office of Personnel Management Federal Investigative Services. It requested that I call the agent named on the card and blab my opinions about an unspecified person that I knew that was "being considered for a position of trust with the U.S. Government." I figured it was a trick. First, I checked my house for forced entry of spies (what if they were already inside), then I checked out the window to the road for surveillance cars. I saw no one.
I wasn't going to call them back. I hate humans and I hate authority. (Don't make me again bother to explain how I can love individuals but genuinely hate the entire human race. It's possible, but I don't have time to persuade you.) The government was gonna have to keep dreaming if they thought they were gonna get a call from me.
Then my unselfishness (shhhhh!) took over. I thought "What if this person applying for a sensitive federal job needs me as a character witness? I should at least look of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management in the phone book to see if they are real." They weren't in the phone book. I wasn't about to call them. It could be a scam. What if it was some criminal organization posing as the government trying to get dirt on my friend? Hell no! Roth Wriscey ain't no snitch. I wasn't about to call the government. It had to be a trick.
Then I thought, "but wait! This government organization is definitely real!" (I can't tell you how I knew just yet. Keep reading.) I decided I would call the agent. But I was gonna call her from outside in my yard. Because what if the sticker on the door with the number was a trick? What if as soon as I called them, they would know I was now inside my home and storm in and kill me? I wasn't going down, especially without witnesses.
Just to be safe, I called the Feds from my front porch, that way if someone approached, I was gonna run to my car and begin a high speed chase. These bastards weren't taking me alive.
So I dialed the agent from my porch and it started ringing. As it rang, and no one answered, I thought, "What if this is the cue for a sniper across the street to take my ass out? Sure, I haven't done anything deserving of sniping. And I don't "know too much." But what if they ran a generic personality profile on me and found that I'm the most likely American to one day overthrow the government. Then they'd feel just cause to take me out preventatively." Just to be safe, I moved behind the brick column on my front porch, just to be a pain in the ass to my would be sniper. The agent never answered. It must be a trick. She must be on her way.
I went back inside. Then my phone rang. Of course! They want me back inside. So I went back outside, and made sure I had a clear path to my car. Mexico if I need it, bitches!
The agent and I spoke for a couple of minutes about mundane details about a neighbor of mine who applied for a federal job. This applicant wasn't that important to me and I didn't have much to offer about him/her. Then I decided to have fun with the agent. I told her that her department wasn't in the phone book and that there was only one reason I called her back.
"Because I already know you."
That's right. I knew my agent. And she didn't know me. Welcome to a day in the life. I remembered her by her very bizarre last name. I could tell she wasn't used to being on the less knowledgeable end of a conversation with another person. We had met one time through a friend 2 or 3 years ago for about 2 minutes outside of the radio station when she was picking up my co-worker to go get drunk.
Just for my own amusement, I was gonna fuck with her further and tell her the few things I knew about her; but then I realized that doing that would just make her investigate me and fuck with me harder. No point in me starting a game I can't win. So I explained how we had met, until she finally remembered me. Then we laughed and spoke about our common friend. Part of me wishes I had fucked with her harder, but the other part of me just takes joy in knowing that for one minute I had a Federal Agent's head spinning because the agent for once felt like the subject knew more about her than she knew about him. I hope they don't come kill me after they read this. Wow, I sound like the Unabomber mixed with and Don Quixote.