Get Secure

“So, I’ll tell the senator,” the assistant looks down at his notes, reading, “‘If you want to keep your seat, you better rethink your stance on the antique helicopter tax.’”

“That’s exactly it,” says the CEO, standing behind his desk, looking out the window of his office. “Anything else?”

“Well, there’s just the one thing,” the assistant says. “We need to decide what to sell the day after Christmas. Our buyers have a great set of security cameras that might be a solid option.”

“Ah, yes,” says the CEO, not turning around. “To help protect all the rubies and diamonds people got as gifts from their various eccentric aunts and uncles.”

“What?” the assistant says. “No, that’s not why–”

“You’re right,” says the CEO, “because by the point the cameras will arrive, customers will already be back on their private islands for a big New Year’s bash, and the dock man will take care of security.”

“Uh,” the assistant says. “No, I meant that I don’t think a lot of our customers are receiving large quantities of rubies and diamonds for Christmas. Nor do they live on private islands.”

“What?” says the CEO, turning from the window. “Then what do they need security cameras for?”

“To protect their houses, and see if there are unwanted guests,” the assistant says. He looks down at his notes. “They’re good cameras too. With excellent night vision and an auto spotlight, 180° rotation, 45° tilt, and 8x digital zoom. Plus they’ve got something called ‘accurate person detection’ and allow you to set ‘activity zones’ to make sure you don’t get a bunch of false alarms.”

“Activity zones, you say. And night vision.” The CEO strokes his chin. “So maybe I could use these to get eyes on the raccoons that Big Lots’ executive hoodlums are always sending to search the trash at my mansion for corporate secrets.”

“Okay, sir, for the last time, the raccoons have not been sent by Big Lots,” the assistant says.

“We’ll see about that once I get my hands on these cameras,” the CEO says, turning back to the window. “Go ahead and run them the day after Christmas. And have a set sent to my private residence. The one in town here. Not on the island. The goons at Big Lots haven’t taught their raccoon spies to swim. Yet.”

“Okay, sure,” the assistant says.

“Oh, and one more thing: tell my driver to bring the car around,” the CEO says.

“Very well, sir,” says the assistant.

“And then tell him to crash it,” the CEO says. “The view is getting boring.”