secret agent visits basement office of professor

at obscure college in small town ohio.

or

a short story about how top level security clearances are obtained in our government.

said agent seemed to be lost wandering up and down the hallway of our little nook in the basement when I arrived yesterday. He wore an ill fitting red striped shirt and paisely tie and had not gone easy on the donuts nor had a haircut in the last month.

He smiled too much, seemed confused by almost everything he saw, and had to refer to his notebook to ask me the three standard questions which he apparently asks everyone who he talks to.

He was trying to obtain security clearance for a student who had dropped out of college after taking my course a few years ago (one more of the masses I've inspired to drop out and turn on or zone out and....something).

He asked questions about was this person dependable, trustworthy, loyal?

He never came to class or turned his work on time, I said.

The agent laughed. I had clearly misunderstood his question. This was about *security clearance*.

So he got right down to the point:

Had he ever mentioned family or friends who were foreigners?

I stared blankly at him. What kinds of conversations does he imagine happen between professors and students these days?

Apparently he recognized my blank stare. He set forth in a long hypothetical scenario which included, you know, maybe an Uncle that maybe he mentioned having a job with intelligence from Cuba or Latin America. You know? Something like that?

No. I said, wondering if maybe this was candid camera. Only there's no room in this cramped little basement office for a camera. Nothing like that was ever said.

Well you never know, he chuckled.

He ripped off the legal sheet that he had been "writing" on and placed it in a manilla folder. He asked for my personal information and debriefed me to let me know that if my student should ever request access to his personnel file, he might see that I had given him a favorable recommendation. (I had?)

When he lifted it into the light, I could see through the legal sheet that there was only one long word written at the top of it. What would that word look like when it was retyped for the "official report" in my student's file? I wondered. What was that word?

He profusely thanked me, and with some great effort managed to climb out of the yellow chair.

No wonder we need more layers of bueracracy to direct intelligence efforts. With agents this sophisticated and methods this nuanced, I can see the need for at least three more layers of middle management...