The Botched Job

My officemates and I had lunch in a small eatery at Lalaipan (I’m not sure about the spelling), which is an open marketplace just a few minutes walk from the office. Of course, we had to make our rounds in the marketplace, where they were selling everything from live crabs to bags to DVDs. (They can’t beat Quiapo in the Philippines though, where alongside some rosaries and talismans you’d find cock rings, fertility pills and abortion cocktails. This right in front of a Catholic church.)

On our way back to the office, we found that the plastic bags my officemates were carrying had slashes on them – apparently some thieves and pickpockets had been on the move. Amazing, as my officemates were walking right ahead of me and I never noticed. But the place was also cramped you’d barely notice it if somebody plucked out your kidneys while you’re walking. I wish I had the same cunning so I could apply to work part time for the CIA.

Fortunately, the thieves weren’t able to finish the job as the wallets and cellphones of my colleagues were intact inside the plastic bags. “There’d usually be two persons at work,” one of my colleagues offered. “One would be knifing the bags, and a second person would be attempting to sneak the valuables out of the bags.”

In audit, this is what we call Segregation of Duties.

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