Adventures with G-Men and Conquering Paranoia

I love Tigereye. She has the convoluted but perhaps valid idea that just because her favorite ice cream has been taken off the menu at fine ice cream parlors and grocery stores in her area, that means she’s on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List. On one hand, it sounds far fetched, but on the other hand, I don’t doubt it in the least.

I’m thinking it’s an omen, a sign from God that she really should lay off the ice cream.

But no, really. Consider the Federal Government. At the risk of inflaming The Powers That Be and causing them to wiretap my phone and monitor my internet activity, I have to say that their usual modus operandi is to act irrationally. That’s why they are in charge. Sensible human beings would have nothing to do with the Federal Government. I know. I speak from experience.

First of all, My First Husband had a top secret clearance. The CIA was probably watching both of us all through Europe. I made the mistake of writing a rather scathing letter to the ex’s commanding officer, which earned me a couple of G-men tag-alongs every so often. It didn’t matter. I pretty much did what I wanted to anyway.

Later on in my life, I was employed by a government agency, and for about twelve years. During this time, I witnessed an amazing amount of government waste. Some of this was human waste (and no, I’m not talking about what ends up whirling down a toilet bowl). The stereotypical government worker standing around while people are waiting to be served is not a joke or cartoon. It’s a real deal, people.

There’s also a fair amount of wasteful spending. Even in my rather benign section of government employment, I saw first hand that certain supervisors could be paid off. It didn’t take much, either.

For example, let’s say you have an item to sell, like a computer or printer. My old boss was a master at obtaining perks for throwing certain vendors the deal. You can be sure that some of the perks were not monetary or even tangible in nature. Sometimes the perks included rolls in the hay. Yup, he was a slut. Because he was a lecherous boss and guilty of sexual harassment, I ended up filing an EEO complaint. In my complaint, I outlined what was going on in our little cesspool of the government. Handy tip of the day: That’s not a good way to make or keep friends or influence people.

There’s nothing like being investigated by the Federal Government. During my EEO complaint process, I not only had to deal with local police departments, but also with the long arm of the Federal police. The locals might be Keystone Cops, but you don’t want to mess with the federales. For one thing, they have no sense of humor. For another, they tape and record everything. And for yet another, they will trade the information they collect with other agencies, like the IRS and Department of Labor. Doing so unleashes all of the dogs so to speak, and they’re free to nip at you as if you were a tasty pork chop.

The resulting paperwork from my EEO complaint amounted to six inches of pain and suffering. It’s now collecting dust in my basement, an anchor to remind me of what great pals our Federal Government is. (If you cannot detect a sense of snarkiness here, feel free to insert a full can.) In the end, nothing happened to my old boss. I think he’s retired now. I could have been retired now, but I decided that my sanity was worth more than a big fat paycheck and early retirement, so I quit my high-paying government job. I’ve since shucked off my experience with working for the government as continued learning.

In retrospect, none of it was worth it, and you have to wonder why the government would want to waste time and taxpayer money on frivolous crap like this. If only they would concentrate on their jobs, we’d all be a lot better off. They might have even captured the 9-11 hijackers before those dudes got on the planes.

But, as they say, hindsight is 20-20, and for the government to learn from their mistakes would be an oxymoron.