The Return of Stanly Raspberry, Private Eye

 

Even though the weatherwoman predicted clear skies, it was, in fact, a dark and stormy night. I was staring at my name on my office door, yrrebpsaR ylnatS, eyE etavirP, when two men walked in. They were dressed in dark wool suits, with double-breasted blazers, button-down collars, covered with raincoats and fedoras.

“Are you Stanly Raspberry, Private Eye?”

“It’s what the door says.”

“No, the door says yrrebpsaR ylnatS, eyE etavirP.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Whaddaya need?”

“We’re from the government” one of them began, as he unfolded his badge wallet, “and we need some help from someone with your, say, experience.”

“What kind of ‘experience’ are you talking about?”

The two looked at each other with a mix of anxiety and being in on an inside joke.

“First off, we have a couple of questions for you. Didn’t you used to work for that other project management organization – the really big one?”

“Yeah, for over twelve years.”

“What happened?”

“They fired me. Didn’t like my attitude, I guess. What does this have to do with…”

Before I could finish my question, they dropped a leather portfolio on my desk. My eye quickly fixated on the logo etched into the upper right-hand corner – Monolithic, Inc. That was the “experience” they needed from me.

The previously-silent agent began speaking as I looked through the contents of the portfolio.

“Monolithic was supposed to develop some software that gathered Earned Value information on IT projects that accommodated Agile and Scrum. At the Critical Design Review, they presented the slides you see in front of you. We think there’s something wrong, but we don’t have anybody who is simultaneously an Earned Value expert, knows Agile, AND has taken on Monolithic before.”

“What do you want from me?”

“We have located the computer inside Monolithic’s headquarters that put together this briefing. We think it has the test versions of the software, as well. We can’t do anything improper, of course. But YOU could infiltrate their headquarters, download the previous drafts of the briefing, as well as the source code and notes from their sprints, without anyone having to get a search warrant, or even knowing it happened.”

“Okay,” I responded, “you guys know my rates.”

“One more thing” the first agent added. “We have these new risk management requirements”

“You’re insane.” I objected. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to do a risk management plan. Besides … they’re wastes of money.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. You just need to take Myron along.”

“Who’s Myron?”

Just then a short, balding, bespeckled little man appeared in the door.

“This is Myron Tittle. He’s an expert in risk management and analysis. He will be accompanying you to both help you achieve mission objectives, and to be our eyes and ears.”

“I work alone.”

“We’ll double your retainer.”

“Welcome aboard, Myron!”

* * * * *

We stealthily approached the edge of the woods on the hill overlooking Monolithic’s office building. It was 5:00 in the morning, but I knew that Monolithic’s over-pressured and overworked employees would start showing up soon. The perimeter was patrolled by guards, towed by menacing Dobermans.

“What’s your plan?” Myron queried, in his nasally little voice.

“We need to get past the guards. Once we’re in, I can get you to the office where the computer resides, and you should have about ten minutes to download your files. After that, we change into custodian’s uniforms, and simply walk out. They don’t check employees leaving, only arriving.”

“No, no, Mr. Raspberry” Myron chortled. “Even if you got past the guards, there’s a badge reader-activated steel door just inside the foyer. I estimate the odds of your plan working at 1 in 1,287. Since your original schedule for this project was around four hours, we should contact the agents and request a contingency reserve of 214 days.”

Just then, light streamed from a side door that had been opened by a guard who was on break, and was stepping out for a cigarette. He lit his cigarette, tossed the match, and then walked around to the far side of the building. I jumped to my feet, grabbed Myron by the arm, and started running for the open door.

“You were saying?”

* * * * *

We immediately headed for the office where the computer was located.

“Don’t make eye contact” I told Myron. “Act as if you are a nobody, and dread being here.”

We arrived at the target office, and went in. Myron produced a writable CD, booted up the computer, and starting searching directories.

“Here it is!” he exclaimed, quickly followed by an “uh, oh.”

“What is it?”

“This computer doesn’t have a CD burner. This being an ‘unknown unknown’ contingency event, I now estimate the odds of our successfully completing the remaining project scope at…”

“Here, use this” I told him as I handed him a thumb drive.

“How did you know that these computers couldn’t burn CDs? Oh, I know, it was based on your previous experience, compromising Monolithic’s security, right?”

“No, I just like having a spare thumb drive, especially for work like this.”

“Wow! I would estimate the value of your contingency plan at…”

“Myron! Just copy the files, okay?”

* * * * *

Back at the office, the two agents had returned. Although they had changed clothes, their appearances were remarkably similar to the evening before. I handed them the thumb drive.

“Another case solved by…”

“Not so fast, Raspberry!” one of them growled. “Your project’s been cancelled!”

“Cancelled? What do you mean?”

“When we received Myron’s request for a schedule contingency of 214 days, our program director immediately terminated the contract. We sent you an e-mail with the stop-work order at 5:12 a.m. this morning.”

“This is absurd! I performed the project’s scope perfectly!”

“Sorry, Raspberry, but our risk managers see it differently. By the way, you’ve been banned from further government work for three years.”

"Can I have my thumb drive back?"

"What thumb drive?"

“Uh huh. Is Myron available? I’d like to have a word with him.”

“He’s been reassigned to a project to prevent nuclear weapons from falling into the wrong hands.”

I reclined in my leather office chair, and sighed.

“We’re doomed.”