T.A.O.T.G. Episode 2: Of The Admiral, how he characterizes himself, and how I came into his employment.

An impatient and clearly accented voice is on the other end of the line. It`s some form of Euro-English but I can´t tell initially whether its of the UK or Australian variety.

"Hellau?...Yes-Yes, well, Bainbridge here. S. Bainbridge...Admiral Bainbridge, see? Is this Green, extension 7, Acme P.I.?

This sounds like a referral. I open the first drawer of my desk, pull out a comp beverage ticket, and place it next to the phone. This reminds me to ask at some point during the conversation for the caller to identify the referring party. It´s kind of a dirty trick though because I´ll just score a tip on the "free" drink later. It´s dirty pool but then we are kind of a 2-bit operation. I write the letter ´a` in the corner of this ticket because my skills of detection tell me Agnes sent this one my way. She´d be most likely to know someone like this and she´s an alcoholic.

"Yes, Mr. Bainbridge, this is Gr-"
"Oustanding-outstanding...Actually it´s about bloody time; I rang earlier and your line was occupied. What kind of 2-bit operation are you running over there without an answering service? Nevermind, then. Let´s get down to brass tacks here Green.
"Ok."
"Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am a small, small man, Mr. Green. A mere crumpet under 5 feet. But I have large, illustrious, IN-dustrious ideas!! I´m an idea man, see? A big picture man. I see the whole bloody picture, loud and clear. Show me 3 eggs, sugar, and a pound of Irish butter, and I see shortbread. There are big picture men and there are detail men; do you follow me, Mr. Green?"
"I...think so-"
"Good-good. I like you Green. I like you a lot. Let me explain."

Talking to this guy is like riding on a Ferris Wheel with the Wizard of Oz. I dont´t know what that means. He goes on:

"You see, I´m starting a new project, well, a buisness, well, let´s call it simply a venture. Or an exploit. And I´m assembling a team of individuals. Skilled individuals, see? Detail people...follow me? I´ll delve into the exploit and the nature of the individuals later. Anyhow, my personality unfortunately prohibits me from trusting anyone. This is where you come in, Mr. Green. I would like to hire you as a member of my team but secretly only as a kind of ´mole´. You will be given tasks in the presence of the other team members but outside of team meetings, your only job will be to watch the others like a hungry, lonely, meat-vulture and report to me explicitly at another time and date about their behaviors. I must know, can you handle this, Mr. Green?"
"Well, I think-"
"Smashing! I knew I could count on you! We´ll meet twice a week, once for team meetings and once for your report. I will pay whatever you want. Fax me a contract. Our first meeting is Wednesday at 8pm. Come round to my flat for a late supper."  

A fax rolls off my machine with the Admiral's address.  He's out of control.

"This will be the first team meeting. See you in 2 days Mr. Green."
"Wait a minute, sir, I-"
"My dentist, Mr. Green: Agnes Borchardt. She spoke highly of you. Fancy that, we have the same dentist...Good day, Mr. Green."
-click-

And thus, the all-knowing, all-powerful Admiral had spoken. Upon de-board of this wacky carnival ride of a conversation, I exhale and flip to ´B` in my Rollodex.

You must be at least this tall to communicate with me.

T.A.O.T.G. Episode 1: Of why and when the phone is answered.

The phone rang.

No seriously, it really did ring but when it does I always think about how 78% of all detective stories start with this sentence and the irony being that 100% of my cases start this way not because this is, in a way, a detective story, but rather because that’s how my job works. I am, to put it simply, an on-call associate for Acme Private Investigation & Fine Italian Dining, Inc. I’m a P.I. like Magnum minus the whole swanky Hawaii gig. And the moustache. Like many industries, the P.I. industry was appropriated in the late 90s by corporations and now I work at a desk in a cubicle taking calls from our hotline. I don’t drive a Ferrari but when the phone rings, I know for a fact that something at least slightly mysterious awaits me at the other end. I live for these morsels of irony.

The phone rang again.

Ah, the sound of an actual bell. Last year the boss bought all of us these olive-green Mountain-Bell rotary phones from 1972 because he said it would create a more “Sam Spade-like” office environment. I must admit, in this day of cell phone ring tone madness, the mechanical bell sound is music to my ears.

But wait, you say. Whats up with “Private Investiagation & Fine Italian Dining”? Interesting story. In 2001, we hired our 40th Associate and basically got too big for our britches. Three months later the boss purchased a two-story building downtown with more than enough office space upstairs. What was on the ground floor? Carter’s Seafood. This old bastard Carter had basically run his restaurant into the ground and was about to liquidate.  The boss decided to buy everything in a lump and reopen it as an Italian joint. I guess he figured he could save us a little money on lunch while making a little money on the outside world. The kicker is that 2 days out of the month we all have to rotate through the service team in the restaurant. I tend bar.

Yet again, the phone rang.

By the third ring, I’m usually starting to feel a little guilty for not picking up as we are supposed to be a pseudo-emergency hotline. But then if you’re having a heart attack, I can’t help you anyway, other than transferring you to 9-11, which I have done, twice.
“Acme Investigations & Italian, Green Speaking. Personal, professional, or take-out?”
“…(gurgling)…I’ve….been…shot…I think…I…”
“Please hold while I transfer you to emergency dispatch.”

I guess the point, if there really is one, is that I usually answer my phone about halfway between the 3rd and 4th rings. That gives me an answering rhythm, or “A.R.”, as the Bobs like to call it, of 3.5. And I do it not to be an asshole, but merely to take the few moments mechanically allotted to me by the telephone to reflect on how point A led to point B, which led to C, and so on...

And so this is when I pick up.