IN WHICH Mojo Meets the Underpants Gnome

UnderpantsOne time, AGES ago, in the glowing dawn of this technological marvel we now call the innertubes, I was asked to attend some vaguely secret introductory meeting with someone's potential client as a technological consultant. Which is a bunch of highfalutin multisyllabic words to convince you just how important Mojo is. My point is, the person who invited me had no REAL idea where the meeting was heading since they were called out of the blue by this person, but I was being brought in just in case there were some serious techie questions they couldn't answer themselves. Oh, and in retrospect, I have my lingering suspicions I was also brought in to be a sort of bodyguard/witness should things go way south, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, the meeting was arranged, and I showed up at the designated point in time and space (Mojo likes to be punctual), only to be greeted by the angriest face I have ever faced and the kinda rude greeting, "WHO the HELL is THIS?" (I kid you not. I don't really believe in psychic abilities, but I can't help but suspect--when you are greeted in this fashion--that Things Are Not Going To Go Well. But again, I am getting ahead of myself.)

So the person who invited me to the meeting (it was just the three of us) does the whole stammering explanation, since apparently this was not the reaction THEIR psychic abilities predicted. The whole time their client did not take their unfriendly, unblinking eyes off me. I just stood there and tried to look innocent of all charges. Finally said client growled "She's not going to try to STEAL MY IDEA, is she?"

While my friend quickly vouched for my stand-uppiness, it was all I could do not to groan, "Oh, no, it's one of THOSE" and leave. THAT WOULD BE RUDE. Instead I stood there, hoping to pass muster, while the client went on at some length complaining about how they had ENOUGH trouble with the government's smear campaign against them, and they really didn't have the stomach for me stealing their brilliance on top of everything else going on in their life. So I assured them I was on the up-and-up, and their secret was safe with me. I offered to sign an NDA, whatever they want. Mojo's cool, dude.

Finally I was allowed to sit down. Whereupon, after many furtive glances around, I was initiated into this person's special world view and their surefire money-printing opportunity. I will spare you the details, Dear Reader, because of course I was SWORN TO SECRECY, and--now that I have established your trust in my impeccable integrity--you will just have to take my word for it when I tell you this person's brilliant idea was (*GASP!*) not all that brilliant, not all that original, and, like the Underpants Gnomes of South Park fame, astonishingly vague around that whole middle part--the specific details of exactly how these vast riches would actually be generated for us to roll around in.

 All of this was interspersed with brief complaints of all the various ways the government was ruining their life. Which, if it were taxes or punitive regulations, Mojo could see where they might take things personally, but nooooo, it involved the CIA and Black Ops and a deliberate campaign to drive this person insane. To which I thought "Mission Accomplished, G-Men!" followed by the sheer gratitude towards this person for apparently dragging *ME* into their little spat with paid assassins and covert ops. Because Mojo *REALLY* doesn't have time for that, what with her active social life and laundry and all.

I believe the meeting concluded with the standard "We'll get back to you on that" along with several reassurances that yes, we would remain quiet about the whole thing and keep an eye out for black helicopters following us. The person who invited me apologized profusely for wasting my time, but ya know, this whole having my life threatened made it all totally worth it. I bring it up now, literally DECADES later, because I thought some people might find it amusing, and Mojo is the sort of pathetic gal who is willing to RISK HER LIFE if it means keeping some of you vaguely amused.

You're welcome.