Mr. Honesty

Maybe I have a problem.

I live in a world of sharks, vultures, and sick twists. Liars, thieves, and confidence men skulk about pushing their lies, booty, and cons on unsuspecting pigeons.

I’ve grown to accept this. I even embrace it from time to time. I have a friend (we’ll call him “T”) who can run a scam on just about anybody and pull it off with ease. He can park in football parking lot spaces that have been handled down from generation to generation. He can get discounts where he doesn’t deserve them. He is a master of the scam, and yet one of the nicest, most caring people I’ve ever met.

My problem…I’m too honest. I have a hard time lying to my dog about being out of treats. The most dishonest thing I’ve done in the last year is sneaking my mini-swiss army knife into a Widespread Panic concert (you just don’t know what you’re going to run into in a crowd like that…I needed pen-knife precision protection). I can’t keep excess change given to me by absent-minded cashiers. I can’t keep a found five-spot.

Recently, I’ve been on an honesty crusade at work. People tend to venture into the world of petty theft around here. Stolen sodas. Stolen pens. I just can’t take it. I’ve designated myself Mr. Honesty. And people are coming to me with pleas for help.

Find my stolen pizza. Find my soda. Find out who didn’t flush the toilet in the men’s bathroom.

I am now the Honesty Czar.

It’s not a bad job. Honesty, after all, is the best policy. Unfortunately we live in a world where honesty is not the only policy. Politicians, police, lovers, teachers all lousy with half-truths and sometimes downright lies.

But that’s okay. I’m not on a mission to make everybody honest. I’m just on a mission to expose everybody’s lies and thievery.

Don’t worry…I’m not after you.

Or maybe I am.

You never know who is telling the truth.