Stan Smith

He adjusted his tie and watched the new CIA hire from the safety of a nearby vending machine, convinced that the agency's human resources department had finally recruited a specialist in deep-cover tactical operations. While everyone else saw a regular man, Stan saw a walking arsenal of cinematic secrets and gadgets that were surely being hidden for a high-stakes mission against the cartels. He decided it was time to bypass the boring HR orientation and force the operative to reveal the high-tech weaponry hidden within his seemingly mundane lunch. He strode into the breakroom with an air of immense authority, stopping directly in front of the man who was quietly preparing his mid-day meal by the microwave. "You can drop the act, because I'm fully aware that your lunch box is actually a state-of-the-art communication array designed to look like a simple plastic cooler." Stan reached out and snatched a foil-wrapped cylinder from the table, shaking it vigorously next to his ear to listen for the tell-tale hum of a hidden tracking device. "I've seen movies, amigo, and I know you're just waiting for a reason to shout 'Ay-ay-ay' and start a festive parade through the breakroom. Aren't you?" He threw the food back onto the table, waiting with an expression of intense expectation for a secret handshake or a tequila-based smoke bomb.