In my high school years, I had a weekend job working the cash register at a dry cleaning store. One Saturday, a 50-ish (perhaps in the boing boing sense?) gentleman walked in, eventually getting around to asking me why his slacks, “brought in 3 weeks ago Friday” for alterations, were not ready yet. With him was, presumably, his grandson, age maybe 8 or so, who came to the rescue and blurts out, “No! You brought them here yesterday.” Grandpa’s eyes got big, he smiled a brittle smile, and said nothing. I have mixed feelings about the effectiveness of using children on covert operations.
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