What would you do for a discount on French fries? I like deep-fried, salted taters as much as the next fellow, but I doubt I don’t think I’d trade the threat of incarceration to get them on the cheap.

Apparently, some people are willing to take that risk, like Jesse Stover of Florida (of course it was Florida). For over two years, he has apparently been enjoying a 50% discount at a local Wendy’s through his status as law enforcement officer. The only problem is that he actually isn’t one, but until this month, no one had ever actually bothered to ask him to prove it. He told them he was a DEA agent, they believed him and so enjoyed fries and Frosties and spicy chicken nuggets at a considerable discount.

His charade came to an end, however, when a manager at the eatery asked to see some sort of credentials. He produced a badge, but when the manager asked to see it, he noted that it only said, “concealed weapons permit” on it. As an aside, the only way this could have been better if it had been a plastic star that said “Sheriff, Dodge City” on it, one that came with a plastic set of handcuffs and cheap cowboy hat in a “Wild West Lawman” set.

Anyway, the manager decided that a badge indicative of Stover’s ability to carry a pistol in his pocket wasn’t really proof that he was a federal drug agent. It would seem to make sense at this point that you realize you’ve been caught and beat a hasty retreat and maybe try your “I’m a drug agent” bit somewhere else, but Stover apparently did not. He allegedly became irate and threatened to call the manager’s corporate bosses and report him for failing to give him his deserved discount. The police were called, Stover allegedly denied claiming to be a drug agent, his badge indicative of not being a drug officer was found and he was booked on a charge of falsely impersonating an officer.

Sometimes with these stories, I like to imagine how things might have gone in a more detailed manner. Sure, there was a disagreement and someone got arrested, but in my mind it played out like this.

“I work for the DEA and would like my discount please.”

“Sure. Could you provide some identification?”

“Um, yeah…I’ve got a badge right here.”

“So, it’s not that I’m questioning your sincerity, but this just says you have a conceal carry permit. Do you have anything that actually demonstrates your affiliation with the agency?”

“Gah man, I’ve got important drug stuff to do and you’re hassling me over ID. Fine, give me a second.”

He goes to his car and returns a minute later.

“Here is my ID badge.”

“Here again, not to be a stickler, but this is a napkin with ‘DEA Agint” written on it in magic marker. It’s a Wendy’s napkin with a coffee stain on it and a word is misspelled.”

“We operate undercover, man. What do you think, I walk around wearing a big sandwich board with ‘I am a drug agent’ written on it? How am I going to seize giant bags of dope if people know I’m a drug police, cop, government thingy guy.”

“Do you even know what ‘DEA’ stands for?”

“It stands for ‘Drug Elimination Association.’ ”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Drugs Err Awful.”


“Drug Eating Apples…look, I just worked a long shift and my mind is a little scattered, OK?”

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to give you the discount sir.”

“Oh yeah, well I have a CIA walkie talkie and I will get on it and get George Washington and Oprah and all the other presidents down here to teach you a lesson or two.”

That’s how I like to think it might have gone. Maybe I’m just making fun…or maybe I’m mad I didn’t think of that sweet discount scam myself.

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