In the far country, long ago, our wise spy visited a delicatessen.
He went up to the pretty girl behind the counter. 'What is it you sell here"? he asked her. She pretended not to understand. He rephrased the question: "Who is your employer"? "My boss", she replied. Then he reminded her of his first question: "What is it you sell"? and she acknowledged the truth behind his line of questioning. Later, he asked her if he could buy something using 150 single cents that he had found by the side of the road and at bus stops. The pretty girl behind the counter said she would have to ask her boss. There was such a look of shame on her face when her employer appeared and turned out to be an old hag. Laudate dominum.