I used to work for the Department of Permanent Records.
Or so I once told some woman.
A number of years ago I met a Gunnery Sergeant of marines for a beer. He's single and always seems to keep his eyes open for a little female company and he's a magnet for women. I am married and am not in the market.
Sure enough, before long there was a pretty little thing sitting next to him and I let the two of them make chit chat and watched the tube behind the bar.
Gunny got up to pee and the woman asked me what I did. I told her I worked for the Federal Dapartmment of Permanent Records. She looked confused.
"Haven't you ever been told that something will go on your permanent record?" I asked.
Certainly she had, but she explained that she knew it was a bunch of hogwash that people used to get other people to tow the line.
"That's where you are wrong," I said. "Six years ago the NEA and the teachers unions hammered Congress to create one. Right now every single person in the country has a permanent record. It starts with a child entering Grade one in school. It ends when social security pays death benefits."
'Really?" she asked.
"Yup. All employers hiring people have to let us know about how their employees are doing." I answered. "It's been that way for the last five years."
"I wonder what my permanant record has in it," she said.
I looked at my watch. "I know the night duty officer working now. She owes me a couple of favors. Want to find out?"
"I most certainly do," she said with a touch of indignation.
The Gunny had left his cell phone on the bar so I picked it up and called my kid sister who is incredibly quick on the uptake.
"Sally," I said. 'It's Pic and I need a favor. Look a record up for me." When I addressed my sister as 'Sally' she knew something was up. It's not her name. I leaned over and told the woman to write here name and social security number on a napkin. A second later I read it to my sister and the woman and I waited.
A short time later I spoke into the phone. "What?" I asked. "No record of her? I guess this phone call starts one for her."
The woman panicked. "No, no, no, Don't start one!" she cried.
I hung up the phone and turned to her. "Sorry. It's automatic. The second a social security number is entered into the system it automatically opens a file. Can't help you as I don't have friends that high up to cancel it."
Gunny had returned and had heard most of what went on.
"Hey, Pic," he said. "I know a master sergeant in the Marine data section that has access to permanent records. Maybe he can squash this."
The woman sidled up to the Gunny.
"Oh, could you," she asked.
I didn't believe a person could be so gullible!
I finished my beer and left.
The next day was Sunday and at about 1130 I got a call from the Gunny.
"You had that poor woman all messed up," he laughed.
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"She just left here a minute ago." he answered. "I called a friend who I knew was out and when the answering machine went off I knew I could pull the same stunt you did so I had an imaginary master sergeant delete her imaginary file. Thanks for making me look like a hero, Pal."
"No problem.Glad to have been able to help."
my other blog is: http://officerpiccolo.blogspot.com/ http://piccolosbutler.blogspot.com/