Monday, January 22, 2007

Invasion of the FBI pt. II

Yeah…Yeah…Yeah…I know. As I have been told in the approximately eleventy billion emails from all of you random people out in internet land…I suck for not finishing the FBI story this weekend. However, in my defense, after the traumatic couple of days I had, what with the ice and the FBI and the cat shit (I’m getting to that part), I really, REALLY needed a couple of days just to be a vegetable.

At any rate…..after being informed by the FBI that:

1)They were not, in fact, shitting me
2)The invasion of my office had nothing to do with my calling George Bush a Nazi

This is pretty much what happened….

The very large man with the very large gun and I set out down the hallway heading towards the conference rooms all the while stopping at each and every individual office and cubicle so that he could scream in what I will refer to as his “FBI Voice” for each person to back away from their computers and follow him.

Side Note: The FBI Voice is apparently some part of special training that all FBI agents receive. This is the voice that is used to imply authority and an air of “You have two choices, you can either listen to me or I will shoot you” that is supposed scare the crap out of you so that you’ll comply with whatever request is being made of you.

However, in my case this did not work so well, because it just made me laugh and ask the agent if he’d ever suffered a sever case of “roid rage”.


The FBI proceeds to shove as many of my co-workers and I into a conference room as humanly possible. I guess all that busting of human smugglers came in handy for them because when I say conditions were inhumane I really do mean it.

So, I’m sitting in this conference room that I’m sure is now in violation of some kind of fire code when I look around and notice that 5 of my newest employees were looking as though they were about to have some kind of a stroke. What you need to understand is that these poor kids have just graduated from A&M (their first mistake) in December and have been working for us for about three weeks. Besides internships and the occasional fast food or grocery store position in high school, this is their first “Real, Grown Up type Job”. Welcome to your professional life my naïve little Aggies.

At this point several FBI agents enter the conference room and inform us that they are here to execute a federal search warrant of the premises.

You know…just in case all their screaming of this upon entering the building didn’t tip us off.

The Agents tell us that they are not looking for a specific individual (whew!!) and ask that we remain patient because, as they put it, “you all are going to be here for a while”.

He then asked if there was anyone in the room that “had not been searched”. Well…I hadn’t been searched, but there was no way in hell that I was going to mention that. Unfortunately, the agent who had me escorting him around the building pointed to me and said (very loudly) that I hadn’t been searched at which point I secretly hoped that he would be eaten alive by rabid hamsters.

Well…since there wasn’t a female agent available to search me, I was allowed to keep everything I had on me, which basically amounted to my coffee cup. But, it’s a very large coffee cup and I could have most certainly injured someone with it if I had wanted to.

The fact that I had a half empty coffee cup presents a whole other problem. I totally had to pee.

I let the one of the FBI agents know that I really, really had to pee. His answer? “You’re going to have to wait a while until we can get someone to escort you to the restroom”. At which point I told him that if he honestly thought that either he or his FBI buddies were going to watch me pee they were sorely mistaken. He told me that it wasn’t that they were going to watch me, but that someone had to walk with me from the conference room to the restroom and back.

After waiting for about 15 minutes I was forced to yell at the FBI. I let the same agent know that I still needed to go to the restroom. The agent told me that I still needed to wait. The yelling went something like “I believe that even prisoners of war who are accused of crimes against humanity are allowed to pee and if you don’t let me go to the restroom right now, so help me god I will pee on your shoe”.

Oddly enough, this did not endear me to the FBI, but they sure as hell let me go to the restroom. Also oddly enough, this outburst terrified my naïve little Aggies, who thought I was surely going to jail for yelling at the FBI.

After this, there was an announcement that we were all going to be allowed to leave for the day. There was much checking of ID’s and escorting people to their cars and whatnot before we were actually permitted to leave.

By the time I got home all I wanted to do was take a massive dose of Nyquil and pass the fuck out, and that’s exactly what I did. However, shortly before I fell asleep, I smelled something pretty fucking terrible and woke up to discover, that just out of sheer hatefulness the goddamn cat had taken a massive shit on the sweater that was laying on the floor of my bedroom. Bastard cat.

See what I mean? All in all…not the best day.


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