We had a problem with teenagers – a couple of young layabouts whose curious faces had started appearing at our windows.

I own some firearms. I have a Beretta given to me by an Italian buddy; God knows its history... I have my uncle's shotgun with an optical sight, and even an ancient six-shooter that my grandfather left me. Then there's the brand new pump-action shotgun, a leftover from a previous mission; it's totally unwieldy, and I thought I'd never use it – except in a weighty argument.

So yeah, I saw those teenagers and went out with my pump-action, holding it by the barrel, relaxed like. I called to them, smiling broadly: "Come in, guys, I'll give you a tour!"

At first they shit their pants, but then grew more courageous and curious. I showed them the consoles aligned on the metal shelves like a factory farm for computers. Then I told them that if they brought me PlayStations, I'd pay them $30 per console. I asked if they wanted a few for themselves; but like Matt said, they weren't interested in outdated models.

As the boys were leaving a delivery man, who was unloading a pallet of consoles, came over and asked me if I needed help. I told him everything was fine, and the boys nodded in agreement.

We had no more trouble. I also hired security guards on good wages, three or four of them; they worked in shifts, splitting the pay among themselves. Matt noticed that I paid them in cash, off the books (I completed our accounts with false invoices from the wholesalers), and said it made him uneasy. 

I said that many so-called "reputable" data providers hire trainees without paying them at all, and so for me it was an easy choice between ripping off the government and ripping off a poor guy that busts a gut for you.