"Is it like they it is?" you ask. Or would ask, if you knew what it is I do for a living, and you'll never until I retire (or am retired). Is it like they say it is? They say it's about adventure, and action, and daring, and heroism. They say it's about man slipping through the defenses to strike a blow for his nation - an expert, an ace, a triumphant example of individual cunning over the blindness of a lumbering enemy institution. A tribute to just how skilled and intelligent and charming one man can be. A special one, prone to excess, living outside the meaningless rules that confine the rest of you, hiding in plain sight or rarely needing to hide at all. Gun in hand, heart on sleeve, girl on arm - who wouldn't want to be spy material? But of course, it's not really like that at all.
It might look like that from where you're sitting, but you'd be mistaken. I might appear confident when spoken to, but in this job the fight against paranoia is constant and draining, because if you become paranoid then you're finished. I might be alone this evening, but I'm always just one piece of the machinery, because you can't accomplish a thing by yourself in this business. I might get to enjoy fine dining sometimes, but it's purely incidental. I might be highly skilled, but the skills I possess aren't exciting or glamorous. I've never thrown a punch in my life. I don't blow things up. I just acquire information.
And I don't hide in plain sight. I don't hide at all. I just live in the blind spots that everyone has - the places you would never look because you assume - you KNOW - nothing could be there. You can fit quite the little career in a blind spot. We all operate on the reasonable notion that we can make at least a small set of very basic assumptions about people based on their outward appearance, and we live our lives based on this, and this is exactly what I exploit. There is nothing observable about a good spy. There will always be people you can't make any accurate assumptions about at all, not even the most basic ones, because their exterior and interior simply do not connect in a familiar manner. There will always be freaks, existing outside the visible spectrum, and I will always be one of them (and it will always make me good at what I do). But we're only freaks if you find out about us, and you won't find out because we appear normal and nobody ever looks twice.
I cannot be found, even if you know exactly what to look for. How do you look for someone you would never notice? You don't - you just don't notice them. It's fundamental.
And it's not glamorous, despite what you may assume. You can't assume. A man in a suit is probably roughly what you'd think he is, but there's a chance he isn't - there's a chance he's almost anything, and that is what I have to be because that's how the world works. The people who get things done are the ones who slip past while everyone is staring at a cliche. But being a freak isn't for everyone. To permanently be half in the shadows, to never truly find that sense of community that we all inherently crave. To keep family and friends (if you even have any) at arm's length. To sacrifice so much of value in service to a career.
Who wouldn't want to be spy material?
You probably wouldn't.
I mean, if you're at all qualified it's almost impossible for you to get the attention of a waitress in a restaurant...
