One long night while investigating a San Diego psychiatric hospital for medical insurance fraud, dozens of FBI agents had worked up an appetite. So an agent called a nearby pizza parlor for delivery. What follows is the conversation with the pizza server. It was recorded by the FBI because, well, that's what the FBI does:

Agent: Hello. I would like to order 19 large pizzas and 67 cans of soda.

Pizza Parlor Employee: And where would you like them delivered?

Agent: We're over at the psychiatric hospital.

Pizza Person: The psychiatric hospital?

Agent: That's right. I'm an FBI agent.

Pizza Person: You're an FBI agent?

Agent: That's correct. Just about everybody here is.

Pizza Person: And you're at the psychiatric hospital?

Agent: That's correct. And don't go to the front doors, we have them locked. You will have to go around back, to the service entrance.

Pizza Person: And you're all FBI agents?

Agent: That's right. How soon can you have them here?

Pizza Person: And everyone at the psychiatric hospital is an FBI agent?

Agent: That's right. We've been here all day and we're starving.

Pizza Person: How are you going to pay for all of this?

Agent: I have my checkbook right here.

Pizza Person: And you're all FBI agents?

Agent: That's right. Everyone here is an FBI agent. Can you remember to bring the pizzas and sodas to the service entrance in the rear? We have the front doors locked.

Pizza Person: I don't think so.

Patricia Nordman