The truth about the FBI
Last Friday night, I went out on an Internet date with someone. Yeah, I know, it's always a tremendous risk and those who attempt to meet others on the Internet have some beyond hilarious stories about what did/didn't happen. If I decided to write a book on it (and I would not be the first nor the last), I would have quite a tale to tell. But every once in a while, one combats the feelings of loneliness and attempts to reach out from their sphere of existence and attempt something new. If there was a better means of communication in the world today, it would not exist. Ha ha ha ... So this man sounded decent enough. He opened his first few emails with saying that he would be traveling to Australia in the next few weeks and asked if I wanted to come. Semi cheesy pick up line in case you are a bit dense, but I responded in positive to it. Divorced, two children who play in soccer tournaments, two years older than me. Sure, I can do this.
We when we met, I naturally had to put the kook factor into everything I do by wearing something distinctive. Since the weather had taken a dive in the last few weeks to colder temperatures, I decided to start wearing a hat again. Sporting a blue knit cap with googly eyes on it (that way he could see me from a great distance), I made myself stand out from the crowd. He gave me an odd look when he saw me, I said I wore it for the previous reason. It was practical as well as attention getting. He was rather taken aback.
As we sat down, we got to chatting over our ordered food. I asked him what he did, he said he was a director of something something for a company called blah blah. But he used to be an FBI agent. Oh really? I found that a bit weird. So I made a comment about a very dear friend of mine who is currently a DEA agent, when one mentions something about the FBI before him, he says "Don't lecture me about those prima donnas!" This guy had a blank look on his face. He said "Well, DEA are bad asses, aren't they?". I said yes, I was about to tell a few stories but he had this impatient look on his face. As he lying? I'm still not sure. But in order to determine if someone is lying about their occupation, in particular if the person is an FBI agent, they will often times say they work for the government. If questioned further about this, they may say that they work for a government branch that does not pertain to the true nature of their jobs (ex. for the U.S. Postal Service). If one is an FBI agent currently working undercover and they let something slip that they are, in fact, doing so, making up a fake job title is the least of their worries. Contrary to popular media opinions, they have no special agent spy types. The only people with guns at the NSA are the NSA Police, who provide security services at NSA facilities (there's an FBI Police Department that provides similar functions). The NSA is strictly an information gatherer and analyzer, and most of their information comes in electronically. It's the world's largest employer of mathematicians. They do have a richly deserved reputation for secrecy. The joke is that NSA stands for "No Such Agency." Most of their employees will say where they work if pressed and obligated to do so, but most will avert their eyes and say, "I work at Fort Meade," that being the site of NSA HQ in Maryland, between Baltimore and DC. So in short, I believe this guy was lying to me.
I could tell at about the halfway point through the evening that he was not enjoying himself. He found me strange or someone who was not about to bow down to him. I found him vain and self centered, quite honestly. He was one of those guys who thought he was better than everyone else, and I think he FBI agent story was just another factor, true or not, that aided to his inflated opinion of himself. He seemed very impatient to get the check paid, and when we finally got it paid he got up a little too quickly. Once we were out the door, he asked where I was parked. I pointed towards the sporting goods store at the end of the short street and said my car was in the parking garage next to it. He said he was also near there. Quite suddenly, he darted off to the left and said that the car parked on the street was his car, and he said "Thanks for the stories, see ya." Not even a handshake or a good-bye. I was rather blown away that someone would be so rude. I was used to encountering that out of the ghetto 7th graders that I'd been around for the last few weeks, but I was not about to be used to that out of a man with such supposed polish as this guy. I called out his name, and as he turned, I gave him the finger. Then I walked away.
So much for that. But life goes on. He was douche.
We when we met, I naturally had to put the kook factor into everything I do by wearing something distinctive. Since the weather had taken a dive in the last few weeks to colder temperatures, I decided to start wearing a hat again. Sporting a blue knit cap with googly eyes on it (that way he could see me from a great distance), I made myself stand out from the crowd. He gave me an odd look when he saw me, I said I wore it for the previous reason. It was practical as well as attention getting. He was rather taken aback.
As we sat down, we got to chatting over our ordered food. I asked him what he did, he said he was a director of something something for a company called blah blah. But he used to be an FBI agent. Oh really? I found that a bit weird. So I made a comment about a very dear friend of mine who is currently a DEA agent, when one mentions something about the FBI before him, he says "Don't lecture me about those prima donnas!" This guy had a blank look on his face. He said "Well, DEA are bad asses, aren't they?". I said yes, I was about to tell a few stories but he had this impatient look on his face. As he lying? I'm still not sure. But in order to determine if someone is lying about their occupation, in particular if the person is an FBI agent, they will often times say they work for the government. If questioned further about this, they may say that they work for a government branch that does not pertain to the true nature of their jobs (ex. for the U.S. Postal Service). If one is an FBI agent currently working undercover and they let something slip that they are, in fact, doing so, making up a fake job title is the least of their worries. Contrary to popular media opinions, they have no special agent spy types. The only people with guns at the NSA are the NSA Police, who provide security services at NSA facilities (there's an FBI Police Department that provides similar functions). The NSA is strictly an information gatherer and analyzer, and most of their information comes in electronically. It's the world's largest employer of mathematicians. They do have a richly deserved reputation for secrecy. The joke is that NSA stands for "No Such Agency." Most of their employees will say where they work if pressed and obligated to do so, but most will avert their eyes and say, "I work at Fort Meade," that being the site of NSA HQ in Maryland, between Baltimore and DC. So in short, I believe this guy was lying to me.
I could tell at about the halfway point through the evening that he was not enjoying himself. He found me strange or someone who was not about to bow down to him. I found him vain and self centered, quite honestly. He was one of those guys who thought he was better than everyone else, and I think he FBI agent story was just another factor, true or not, that aided to his inflated opinion of himself. He seemed very impatient to get the check paid, and when we finally got it paid he got up a little too quickly. Once we were out the door, he asked where I was parked. I pointed towards the sporting goods store at the end of the short street and said my car was in the parking garage next to it. He said he was also near there. Quite suddenly, he darted off to the left and said that the car parked on the street was his car, and he said "Thanks for the stories, see ya." Not even a handshake or a good-bye. I was rather blown away that someone would be so rude. I was used to encountering that out of the ghetto 7th graders that I'd been around for the last few weeks, but I was not about to be used to that out of a man with such supposed polish as this guy. I called out his name, and as he turned, I gave him the finger. Then I walked away.
So much for that. But life goes on. He was douche.
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