My Name’s Steve, and I’ll Be Your Dealer Today
Giving one more glance around the crowded bar, Agent Johnson (who’s still working undercover in the South somewhere and shall therefore remain otherwise nameless) yawned and sighed. He was working undercover narcotics and had wanted to bust a certain known dealer that night. But the dealer had never appeared. Whatever the reason, the whole evening had been a colossal waste of time.
The agent was about to pay his tab and go home when a man slid onto a stool next to him and struck up a conversation. Johnson began to suspect that this man might also have connections to the drug culture.
“Hey, man,” he asked his new acquaintance, “you know where I can buy some reefer?”
The man said evenly, “As a matter of fact, I do.” After a few more minutes’ conversation, Agent Johnson understood that the man was referring to himself.
By now Johnson was wondering, How am I going to find out who this guy is? He had to have a name in order to serve a warrant. And he had to serve a warrant, because to arrest the man on the spot would jeopardize the entire operation and blow his cover as well.
The new suspect didn’t feel comfortable selling drugs in the bar, so they strolled outside into the parking lot. The man led Johnson to his car. The agent was still racking his brain, trying to think of a way to learn the dealer’s name.
Then the dealer himself solved the problem.
“Listen, man, it’s nothing personal,” he said. “But I don’t know who you are. I mean, you could be a cop for all I know. So can I see your driver’s license?”
With a rush of relief, the agent pulled out a phony driver’s license that he used for undercover work. And then he said, “Hey, I don’t know who you are either. Can I see your driver’s license?”
“Sure,” the dealer replied.
The agent looked at his license, memorized the information, and made the buy. About a week later, the dealer was treated with a personalized warrant for his arrest signed by his new friend, Johnson.