Phone Detective

Another compilation of highlights from the Gamesblog chat 'forum'. This time, it seems, in the style of a hard-boiled detective novel. No really.

The hack grasped the report. "What the heck am I going to do with this?" he thought.

31/05/11

Report of agent code-named Sam and Brian.

He drained his glass of bourbon and slammed it on the desk with a bang, immediately opening the drawer and taking out the bottle to pour on another.

"None of this makes any god damn sense, Sam!" Brian shouted and gesticulated angrily towards the brown file in front of his partner, the file with the insignia of the police, the file that was under his office door drawer labeled at earlier that day.

The streetlights looked through the blinds, casting dark bands of shadow across the tiny cluttered office, with its faded pictures from his time in power, and the peeling spell with black letters 'B. Adenhart - Private Eye "on the frosted glass of the door.

Tearing round the last corner before the street where Keith hawked his wares the car almost crashed into an expensive-looking Cadillac. As the two cars passed, the drivers caught each other's eyes, a smile cracked on the other driver's face before they speed away in opposite directions

"Listen!" sam whispered. "There's something coming from that alley"

Witness statement of the day

My first call was some complaints about the Olympic ticketing system to investigate. Killerbee was happy to go on the record:
"Could develops a chaotic system of allocation of tickets for a sporting event was when they tried 'd?"

I 'm not sure who he was complaining when it was not' t much anger to increase among the rest of the community. A resignation sense of expectation. Local (alleged) Mafia boss HereComesTreble put the matter to rest:

"Pret a Manger sandwich is the official supplier of the Olympic Games in London, which says it all really."

The corporate talk gave me a thirst. I swung by a local gathering place for some afternoon refreshment. There was a guy because he hadn 't around much lately. Lazybones I think they call it. In the haze of the bar, he proclaimed:

"Bought myself a frying pan last week. I don't know if I mentioned this. Do you think I have become more boring?"

A tall blonde walked by my office window. I could say it was great when I worked on the second floor. I could tell she was a blonde, because she blossomed all over the chair opposite my desk. But these are things that have to do if a private dick has a secretary that will work long hours for short pay.

Speaking of those who work for short pay and pay a little too much attention to the lady in the chair was now full of useful tips for interviewing. Seems that 7 hours 12 minutes a day of Internet time is not as productive time by many in this country 's captains of industry saw spending.

Turned out I wasn't the only detective for hire looking to fill a blonde shaped hole in my office; Sorbicol had been interviewing some hopeful nineteen-year-olds, obviously to help him out with the extraordinary time he spent on the internet. The louse was keen to pass on the list of psychological profiling questions he had prepared. Not that he prepared them himself, he had some poor child from the HR department prepare them, plausible deniability, children, pay attention, this was the first lesson.

It seemed Sorb was not the only one to find new meat. While the government was trying to tell us we were in a recession, BlueAndWhiteBoy seemed to think it would be okay, its four candidates to fight to the death for the three posts. I could go fight in a war so these men as the country. I was so proud of these two.

I was afraid for the rest of us proles, sitting on the other side of the interviewing desk was our lot.

Having discussed the benefits of truth in exit interviews and the pros and cons of using Linkedin and Facebook, to find dirt on your interview panel, the lady across from me opened her heart to us. She was tempted to answer that perennial question interview: "What is your greatest weakness"

This should have been obvious for a band of social misfits who spent all day every day talking about games, that they then spent all night every night playing. And I'm not talking about healthy games, I'm talking about Blood Bowl and World of Tanks, here. Backstreet dive games, for desperate men.

This is a transcript of testimony.