#technical interview services

[barraisersworld]

technical interview services

Technical Interview Services provide specialized help for assessing technical skills. Get accurate, expert evaluations to ensure you make the right hiring decisions. Improve your recruitment process with structured, fair technical assessments.

[electricboogaloosstuff]

I think Louis and Madeleine would have been very good friend if she had not died because they are the only two in the entire vampire community who know how to run a business.

[t-essell]

i still have to get situated w a temp agency

[risebird3]

RiseBird: Transforming Technical Hiring with Video Interview Service.

A groundbreaking solution has been developed in Bangalore, the epicenter of India's tech boom, to handle one of the most urgent problems facing businesses today: finding top-tier tech talent. Risebird, a Bengaluru-based video interview platform, is used by businesses for their tech jobs.Ready to revolutionize the way requirements are handled. Risebird is ushering in a new era of efficiency and effectiveness in the hiring process with an exclusive combination of "Hire Technical Interviewer" services and a pioneering "Interview-as-a-Service" platform that enables on-demand interviewing.

Hire Technical Interviewer Services:

Risebird's ability to provide highly qualified and specialized technical interviewers is one of the company's key selling points. Finding and evaluating the appropriate technical expertise can be a difficult task in today's tough job market. Risebird is aware of this difficulty and has built a pool of skilled technical interviewers who excel at assessing applicants from diverse backgrounds.

Whether you're looking for engineers, data scientists, software developers, or cybersecurity specialists, Risebird's technical interviewers are knowledgeable about the specifics of each position. They add sector-specific experience to your recruitment process, guaranteeing a thorough and accurate assessment of candidates. Not only does this free up valuable time for your internal teams, it also significantly increases the efficiency of the technical appointments you hire.

Interview-as-a-Service (IaaS):

“Interview-as-a-Service” offered by Risebird is revolutionizing the talent acquisition industry. Both recruiters and potential candidates can benefit from the intuitive and user-friendly experience provided by this state-of-the-art platform. Modern video technology is used to provide remote interviews that are just as intimate as in-person interviews.

Here's how it works: Recruiters can schedule interviews with candidates, who can choose from a variety of formats and role-specific interview questions. The Risebird platform manages all the details, including scheduling interviews and managing the recording and replay of videos. This not only streamlines the process, but also frees up recruiters to focus on what really matters – evaluating candidates' qualifications and potential.

On-demand Interview Services:

Risebird provides the flexibility that the current job market demands through its on-demand interviewing services. Risebird has you covered whether you need to fill a critical position immediately, have had an unexpected increase in hiring demands, or simply want to maintain a steady flow of talent. You can conduct interviews on your schedule and at the push of a button, avoiding hassles and ensuring a steady stream of qualified applicants.

The RiseBird Advantage:

Risebird offers an exclusive blend of know-how, cutting-edge technology and unique convenience features, ready to improve the effectiveness and success of your recruitment process. Here are some reasons why companies looking for technical skills prefer Risebird

Quality Control: By ensuring that only the most qualified applicants advance through your hiring process, our skilled interviewers reduce the chance of costly hiring errors.

Cost-Effective: Risebird's Interview-as-a-Service reduces your recruitment costs by removing the need for substantial travel and resource allocation.

Time Efficiency: Say goodbye to time-consuming logistics and scheduling hassles. The employment process is streamlined by Risebird, enabling you to make quick, data-driven decisions.

Global Reach: Risebird's platform makes it easy to conduct interviews with applicants from around the world, giving you access to a talent pool that isn't bound by location.

Flexible Scaling: Adjust the size of your recruitment initiative as needed to guarantee that you always have the best talent for your projects.

In conclusion,Risebird, a Bangalore-based video interview platform, offers a full range of services that is revolutionizing the way businesses approach tech hiring. Risebird gives companies the tools they need to empower strong technical teams more quickly and with better assurance. These tools include technical interviewer services, interviewing as a service, and on-demand interviewing capabilities. If you're ready to take your technical recruiting process to new heights, Risebird is your trusted partner on this journey.

[manasastuff-blog]

Indian Army (10+2) TES Salary #trendingshorts #viralshort #nda #army

Indian Army (10+2) Technical Entry Scheme (TES) salary structure and the incredible opportunities that come with it. If you're a student aspiring to serve in the Indian Armed Forces, understanding the financial aspects is crucial for planning your future.

Call: 7799799221

Website:www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#indianarmy #10plus2tes #tessalary #defencecareer #manasadefenceacademy #armytraining #militarysalary #armylife #joinindianarmy #indianforces #careertips #testimonials #indianarmytraining #technicalentry #defenceservices #armybenefits #militarycareer #careeropportunities #preparingtobeanofficer #successstories

[weedpicnic]

this is gonna be really especially ridiculous for the agencies and programs that aim to hire people with lived experience with addiction

[futuremug123]

Best interview as a service Platform in India

Empowering your organization with AI driven tools and manpower to source, assess, interview, and automate your recruiting workflow.

Futuremug is Best interview as a service Platform in India.

Interview as a service Platform in India

[barraisersworld]

Technical Interview Services

[fandiehard]

Discovering and Navigating Amazon's Work from Home Opportunities

Amazon, a global e-commerce giant, not only offers a wide array of products and services but also provides remote work opportunities. Interested in exploring and applying for these roles? Let’s delve into what Amazon work from home jobs entail, the available positions, the perks, challenges, and the steps to secure these roles.Understanding Amazon Work from Home RolesAmazon’s work from home jobs…

[mandoalorian]

meet cute [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Congress & Carnality Prologue

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: Moving to New York was supposed to be a fresh start. You didn’t expect to cross paths with a stranger who offered a helping hand—or that fate would throw him back into your life in the most unexpected way. Now, navigating a new job and an enigmatic boss, you start to wonder if this city has more surprises in store than you bargained for.

Word Count: 3100

Tags/warnings: 18+ fic series. employer x employee.

Masterlist

congress & carnality masterlist

Brooklyn was alive with the hum of the city—horns blaring, distant laughter floating through the air, the occasional shout of a street vendor trying to make a sale. The summer heat had begun to cool with the setting sun, but your skin still stuck to the fabric of your shirt as you strained to lift the last of the boxes from the moving van.

It wasn’t going well.

You gritted your teeth, adjusting your grip on the heavy cardboard box labeled BOOKS – HEAVY AS HELL in thick marker. You had been ambitious, thinking you could handle moving all your things alone. Your new apartment was on the third floor, the elevator was out of service, and your arms were already aching.

"Come on, come on," you muttered under your breath, trying to shift the weight in your hands. Just a few more steps to the front door—

"You need a hand with that?"

The deep voice startled you, making you jump. You turned too quickly, and the box wobbled dangerously in your arms, your grip slipping. Before you could react, strong hands reached out, steadying it with ease.

"Whoa—got it," the man said smoothly, catching the box before it could meet the pavement.

Your heart pounded, both from the near disaster and the sudden presence of him.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark t-shirt that stretched across his chest in a way that made your stomach flip. His dark hair was a little longer, pushed back like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. But it was his eyes that caught you—steel blue, sharp and assessing, yet softened by something unreadable.

He was handsome. Like, ridiculously handsome. And familiar.

“I saw you from across the street,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “Looked like you needed a hand. Forgive me for overstepping, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Was this man trapped in the 40s? “No you’re all good,” You swallowed, clearing your throat. "Uh—thanks."

"You sure you got this?" he asked, glancing at you with a teasing smirk as he easily lifted the box like it weighed nothing. "Looked like you were about to start a wrestling match with it."

You narrowed your eyes. "I had it under control."

"Right," he drawled, clearly unconvinced. "That's why you were losing?"

Your lips pressed together, but despite yourself, you let out a small huff of laughter. "Fine. Maybe I was struggling a little."

"Kinda figured," he said, shifting the box effortlessly under one arm. "Where to?"

You hesitated. "You really don’t have to—"

"Third floor?"

You sighed in defeat. "…Yes."

"Then I’m helping."

You knew better than to argue with someone who looked like they could carry your entire bookshelf up the stairs without breaking a sweat. You grabbed a smaller box to at least pretend you were contributing and led him toward the building.

"You new to the area?" he asked as you climbed the stairs, barely winded. Meanwhile, your legs were already burning.

"Yeah," you panted. "Just moved here for work."

"Work, huh?" His voice held a note of interest.

"Technically nowhere yet," you admitted with a dry laugh. "I have an interview tomorrow."

"Big deal?"

"Could be. It’s for a political assistant position."

His steps faltered just for a second, so brief you almost missed it.

"Politics, huh?"

"Yeah. Not my first choice, but… I need the money. And I figure it’s a good stepping stone."

He hummed, unreadable. "Well, if it’s meant to be, you’ll get it.”

You raised a brow at that, watching him effortlessly balance the heavy box in one hand. His other hand, clad in a single dark leather glove, flexed as he adjusted his grip.

Your curiosity got the better of you. "What’s with the glove?” 

His expression didn’t change, but there was the slightest pause before he shrugged. "Fashion statement."

You smirked. "Oh, sure. You just had to be the guy who wears one leather glove in the middle of summer."

"Exactly," he said smoothly. "Real trendsetter."

You laughed, eyeing his physique. "Are you a bodybuilder or something?"

He grinned, a soft blush kissing his cheeks when he realised you were checking him out. "Something like that."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You’re being very mysterious."

"Am I?" His smirk widened.

"Yes. And it’s suspicious."

"You think I’m suspicious?"

"A little."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe I just enjoy keeping you on your toes."

Your stomach did an unexpected flip at that, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on not tripping over the stairs.

When you reached your apartment, he set the box down effortlessly while you huffed and wiped sweat from your brow. He turned to you, rubbing his palms together as if dusting them off.

"There you go. Least I could do.”

You hesitated. "Thanks… I uh— I appreciate your help,” You said awkwardly, extending your arm to shake the man’s gloved hand. You registered the weight of it, a strong and firm grip. “Do you live round here?”

“Ah, no,” The man replied. “Used to. Was born here, actually. But that was a while ago and everything looks so different now. I hardly recognise it,” You quirked an eyebrow. The man appeared no older than 40 and you could’ve sworn the neighbourhood hadn’t changed that much.  “I live in uptown Manhattan.”

You laughed. “Wow, fancy,” you tutted, jokingly rolling your eyes. “How come you’re here in Brooklyn?”

“Promised I’d meet with Sam for a drink later, he’s a friend, I mean, he’s actually more of a headache,” he replied, clearly unimpressed with himself.

“You know I didn’t catch your name.” You laughed. In the past five minutes you’d learned the name of this Brooklyn-born body builder’s friend and discussed his keen eye for fashion trends, and yet, you didn’t even know his name. 

Something flickered across his face, a split-second hesitation. Then, smoothly, he said, "Bucky."

Bucky.

The name stirred something in your mind. But before you could dwell on it, he was already backing up, a small smirk on his lips.

"Good luck tomorrow," he said. "Hope you get the job."

You wanted to say something else—to ask if you’d see him again. But the words caught in your throat, and before you could untangle them, he was already turning down the hallway, disappearing into the stairwell.

You sighed, shaking your head. If it’s meant to be…

Yeah, right. What were the chances you'd ever run into him again?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Late. You were so late.

When your eyes fluttered open that morning, it was already too bright outside. Too bright meant one thing—you had overslept.

The moment you turned your head to check the time on your phone, panic set in like ice in your veins.

8:43 AM.

Your interview was at 9:30 AM.

In Manhattan.

Your stomach dropped.

"Shit—!"

You flew out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as you scrambled to the bathroom, fumbling to brush your teeth while simultaneously yanking a hairbrush through your tangled strands. Your carefully planned, professional morning routine? Completely out the window.

By the time you threw on your blouse and blazer—both slightly wrinkled—and snatched up your bag, it was already 8:57.You bolted down the stairs of your apartment building, the adrenaline in your veins the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

The subway was packed. Of course it was—rush hour in New York.

You squeezed yourself into the train, clutching onto the pole with one hand while you rifled through your bag with the other, checking for your resume.

Crumpled.

Great.

The train lurched forward, and you stumbled, mumbling a curse. Your reflection in the dirty subway window revealed wide, stressed-out eyes, flushed cheeks, and a shirt that looked like it had been rolled into a ball before you put it on. Fantastic first impression.

The train ride felt eternal, every stop stretching time like torture.

By the time you finally made it to Uptown Manhattan, you were sweating. You raced up the steps to street level, nearly twisting your ankle in your heels as you sprinted down the crowded sidewalk.

The office building came into view, towering over you with its sleek glass facade. You skidded to a stop inside, gasping for breath as you approached the receptionist.

"I'm—I'm here for the—interview," you panted, pushing hair from your face.

She barely glanced up. "Mr. Barnes is expecting you."

You straightened, trying to regain a semblance of dignity. Mr. Barnes? The name meant nothing to you. You nodded, smoothing your clothes before pushing through the doors.

And then—you froze.

Because sitting behind the massive mahogany desk, was Bucky.

Your Bucky.

Except… not your Bucky.

Congressman James Buchanan Barnes.

Oh. Oh.

His smirk was slow and smug, his eyes filled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.

"Surprise," he murmured, a coy smile playing on his lips.

Your stomach plummeted.

Oh, shit.

The straight navy blue suit was very different to the black tec-top he was wearing when you had met him yesterday. His hair had been combed back with a little product placed in it to keep it from falling out of his face. You stood there, still, like a tin of milk, blinking in disbelief at the Congressman you were stood before. 

“Well, you could at least take a seat, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled, pulling your seat out like a gentleman. 

Your legs moved on autopilot, your mind still reeling as you sank down into the chair. You tried to steady your breathing, smoothing your clammy hands over your skirt as you forced yourself to focus.

He walked over to the drinks trolley, picking out a crystal glass. “Want a drink?”

“Wa-water would be good,” you swallowed, stiffly sitting into the chair and taking your crumpled resume out of your purse, doing your best to straighten it out the best you could. 

“You’re thirty minutes late,” Bucky acknowledged. “But your shirt is inside out so I won’t be too harsh on you.”

You gasped looking down at yourself. He was right. How had that even happened? 

Bucky handed you the glass of ice water and slid into the chair, opposite you, behind the obnoxiously large mahogany wood desk. 

“You're staring.” His voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing as you tried to form words. Any words.

"You—You're him!" you finally sputtered. “Congressman James Buchanan Barnes!"

“Just Bucky is fine," he corrected, his lips twitching. "But yeah. Still me."

Your pulse thundered in your ears. "You're—You're a Congressman?"

His smirk widened. "Something like that."

You shot him a glare. "That’s the same thing you said when I asked if you were a bodybuilder."

"I was being vague for a reason."

"You—!" You exhaled sharply, gripping the folder in your hands so tightly the edges crumpled. Your eyes scanned your resume one last time before handing it over to him. ”This is the political assistant job?"

"That would be correct."

"And you’re the one hiring for it?"

Another nod.

You could kill him.

Bucky only watched you with a maddeningly calm expression, clearly enjoying your struggle to process reality. This was still an interview. Your interview. And you were going to nail it—whether or not the man across from you was someone who had once carried your heavy-ass book box like it weighed nothing.

Bucky leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "So," he said, voice settling into something more businesslike. "Tell me why you want to work for me."

You straightened, lifting your chin. "I'm interested in politics, and I think working as a congressional assistant would be a valuable step in gaining experience."

He arched a brow. "But not your dream job?"

You hesitated. "No," you admitted. "But I want to learn. I want to understand how things work from the inside."

His sharp blue gaze studied you for a long moment. "And you’re okay working in a… morally gray environment?"

Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Bucky sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Politics isn't exactly clean. There's a lot of… persuasion, deal-making, bending the truth."

You swallowed. "I can handle it."

That made him smile. It was small, approving.

"Alright, then," he said, leaning back. "You’re hired."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

"Congratulations, sweetheart." His grin was teasing. "You just became my new assistant.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Bucky led you through the winding halls of the congressional office, his presence steady beside you. The space was sleek—wood-paneled walls, modern glass partitions, the faint hum of ringing phones and muted conversations filling the air. You tried to take it all in, the sheer gravity of where you were now working.

You had just started feeling like you could breathe again when Bucky turned a corner and led you into an open office space filled with desks, most of them occupied by young, fast-talking, coffee-fueled staffers who barely spared you a glance.

But one person did notice you immediately.

She was perched against the edge of a desk, legs crossed, her deep red dress fitted to perfection. She had long honey blonde hair, pristine makeup, and an air of effortless authority that made it clear she was used to being in charge.

Her gaze swept over you in an instant—assessing, calculating. And then she smirked.

"So, this is the new girl?"

You forced a polite smile, ignoring the sharp prickle of discomfort that ran down your spine. "That’s me."

Tara’s eyes flicked over to Bucky, amusement dancing in her gaze. "I see why you hired her."

Your stomach clenched at the implication.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Bucky cut in smoothly, his tone firm. "Tara."

She glanced at him, feigning innocence. "What? It’s just an observation."

"You promised to play nice," he reminded her.

She hummed, tilting her head at you. "I am being nice."

You arched a brow. "I'd hate to see what not nice looks like."

That seemed to amuse her. "Oh, you’ll find out," she said lightly before pushing off the desk. "Welcome to the team, sweetheart." With that, she strode past you, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air.

You exhaled, finally turning back to Bucky. "Well. She seems charming."

Bucky chuckled. "You’ll get used to her."

"I doubt that."

His smirk grew. "Tara’s tough, but she’s good at her job."

You folded your arms. "Is she always like that?"

"Like what?"

You shot him a flat look. "You know what."

He sighed, rubbing his jaw. "She’s protective. She likes to test people."

"Test people? Or test me?"

Bucky’s lips twitched. "A little of both."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push further.

"Come on," he said, nodding towards the exit. "You survived your first day. That means you deserve a reward."

You frowned. "A reward?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "Coffee. On me."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The café Bucky led you to was small, nestled into a quiet corner of Manhattan. It had warm lighting, the scent of roasted espresso beans filling the air, and a cozy charm that made you instantly feel at ease.

You stepped inside, grateful for the slower pace compared to the chaos of the office. Bucky guided you to a table near the window, and as you sat, you let out a long breath.

"Better?" he asked, watching you.

You nodded. "Much."

A barista came by to take your orders—Bucky got a simple black coffee, while you opted for something with far too much sugar and whipped cream.

As soon as the barista left, you looked at him, narrowing your eyes playfully. "So. Congressman Barnes."

Bucky groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can just call me Bucky, y'know."

You smirked. "Oh, I know. But I’m still reeling from the fact that you didn’t tell me you were a politician when I met you."

"I didn’t lie to you," he said innocently. "I just… didn’t offer unnecessary details."

You scoffed. "Not unnecessary! You made me think you were some guy who just walked around offering free labour to people moving into their apartments."

He shrugged. "Maybe I am that guy."

"Yeah, and maybe I’m the Queen of England."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. I’ll admit it—I should’ve told you."

You leaned forward, propping your elbows on the table. "Why didn’t you?"

His smirk faded just slightly, his eyes darkening.

"Would you have acted differently?" he asked. "If you knew who I was?"

You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated. Would you have?

You weren’t sure.

He saw the conflict on your face and smiled knowingly. "Exactly."

You huffed. "Still. You let me ramble on about my job search when you knew you were the one I was applying to work for!"

He grinned. "That was my favorite part."

You kicked him lightly under the table.

He chuckled, reaching for his coffee as the barista returned with your drinks. You took a slow sip of yours, savoring the warmth, before glancing at him again.

"So, tell me," you said. "What exactly does being your assistant entail?"

Bucky smirked. "Keeping me in line."

You snorted. "That sounds like a full-time job and overtime."

"You’re not wrong," he admitted. "You’ll help with scheduling, policy briefings, liaising with the press. And, sometimes…" He hesitated. "You’ll deal with people like Tara."

You made a face. "Ah. So ‘babysitter’ should be in the job description."

He chuckled. "Something like that."

There was a moment of quiet between you two, the soft hum of café chatter around you.

Then Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"I wanted to ask you out for coffee the other day," he admitted. "When I helped you move."

Your breath caught.

"But I chickened out," he continued, looking down at his cup. "Figured I missed my chance."

You tilted your head. "And now?"

"Now?" He looked up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. "Now, I finally have an excuse."

Your pulse stuttered.

Fate.

You had told yourself that if it was meant to be, you’d cross paths again.

And here you were.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave @pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs @abitofblues @ferretferretferret @helen-2003 @notreallythatlost @opheliagreenaway @flowerluvr @lil-riddle-kiddle

[if you want to be added or removed from taglist, lmk<3]

[afloweroutofstone]

In late 2023, I published the first ever survey of weapons companies advertising to policymakers in the DC subway system. Earlier this month, I spoke with Responsible Statecraft for a follow-up article which notes that the problem appears to have gotten even worse.

Leaving the [Washington National] airport I walked past ads for other Pentagon contractors and noticed that an in-airport playground that my kids have cavorted upon is sponsored by Boeing, whose weaponry has allegedly been used in numerous attacks that have killed children. And that’s an important distinction: these aren’t ads from companies that sell car insurance or beer, these are ads from companies that literally profit from war — and the threat of war — and get hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars every year to do it.

...So I contacted my former colleague Brett Heinz, who has done one of the only systematic analyses of Pentagon contractor ads in the D.C. metro system that I’m aware of — he spent dozens of hours riding the metro just to look at ads so, yes, he might be a masochist, but he’s highly knowledgeable about this topic.

“Oh, it’s gotten so much worse,” Heinz... explained in an interview. “The subway campaigns that I focused on are still common,” he added, pointing to recent ad campaigns by Amazon Web Services (AWS) — which were running as Amazon founder Jeff Bezos was in town for President Trump’s inauguration — proclaiming to riders that “AWS is how taxpayer dollars go further” and “AWS is how intelligence stays a step ahead.”

“But contractors have also been trying new approaches,” Heinz added, pointing to the Anduril and L3 Harris billboard-sized ads that have been running on the side of D.C. buses for months.

...“The returns on investment here are massive: if a contractor's ad campaign has even a marginal effect in securing one single Pentagon contract, the company will make their money back several times over,” Heinz explained.

To that point, just since the Anduril ads began running in the greater D.C. area the company has been awarded more than $1 billion in a series of contracts from the Pentagon.

While the ad campaigns' direct impact on any of these deals would be hard to prove, there’s no question that ad campaigns by Anduril and other Pentagon contractors get the attention of D.C. decision makers. That’s exactly the point. According to Outfront, “transit advertising makes you a part of consumers’ day.” In the greater D.C. area those “consumers” can be Pentagon acquisition officials, members of Congress, and their staff that help determine how much taxpayer money the Pentagon spends, and even which companies — like Anduril — get it.

These ads, then, are better seen as lobbying by other means. And, while it’s technically illegal for contractors to use Congressionally appropriated funds “for influencing or attempting to influence an officer or employee of any agency,” transit ads have not been considered as falling under this limitation. And last May, a D.C. judge ruled that a WMATA provision barring “advertisements that are intended to influence public policy,” was a violation of the First Amendment, which now gives government contractors and others free rein to run issue ads in the D.C. transit system.

In short, residents and visitors to our nation's capital will be forced to wade through an even wider and deeper swamp of Pentagon contractor marketing that was made possible, to some extent, by the hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars the Pentagon doles out every year.

[scary-grace]

Call Me Sometime - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You work the dispatch desk at a phone sex line to make ends meet, and you're used to handling some strange calls. But the caller you're babysitting tonight is the strangest by far -- and that's before you find out why he called.

Your headset is making your ear hurt, but you know you’ll get a call the instant you take it off, and your boss has this thing about dropped calls. The meter on each session starts running the instant the client is approved by the screener, and why Mizuho can’t do this part, too, you’ll never understand. Her quirk lets her pick up a variety of useful information just from hearing someone’s voice, but she’s only interested in three pieces – their sexual orientation, their price point, and their age. If the latter two check out, she fills in the third and routes the call to you, and it’s your job to match the client with the appropriate phone sex operator.

It’s not your job to talk to the clients. But the meter’s running once they pass the screener, and more often than not, they’re paying to talk to a woman. During busy times, when all the other operators are occupied and there’s a client on hold, that woman is you.

You’re nineteen, technically too young for a job like this one. You were younger when you were hired. The head of the agency, Souma – she makes everyone call her Akiko, like you’re friends or something – knew that when she sought you out, but you didn’t know she knew. Midway through the interview, when she was talking about the solid pay rate and flexible hours, you brought it up. “You know I’m eighteen, right?”

“That’s why I want you,” she said, her smile sharp-toothed, and you blinked. “Our clients are perverts of the first order, and they get off on doing what they aren’t supposed to. Even if there’s nothing sexual about your conversations with them – even if you’re telling them to hold while you route their call – knowing that they’re talking to an underage girl will get them going.”

“That’s gross,” you said, for lack of anything better. Akiko nodded. She was applying lipstick, checking it in a compact mirror, although you know now that the mirror itself contains a device that jams surveillance equipment. Your boss doesn’t take risks, and neither do you – which is why you were so hesitant to take the job. “I don’t have to – do anything. I’d just route the calls and chat when they have to hold longer than two minutes.”

“That’s right,” Akiko said. She smiled at you. “Are we doing this? I’ll put you on the payroll right now.”

You wanted to be on the payroll. The pay rate was twice as much as you could get anywhere else, and you needed the money. But you had another question. Two questions. “You know I’m quirkless?”

“So what? You don’t need a quirk to answer phones.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and even then, you were smart enough not to let her see it. “There are other girls my age you could get to do this. Ones who’d be – better at it.”

“You mean my fellow sluts?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant,” Akiko said, and kept talking when you protested. “It’s all right, darling. We’re all sluts here.”

“It’s not what I meant,” you repeated. “There are other girls who’d be better at it. Why me?”

“Mm.” Akiko studied you. Six months later, you still remember the way your skin crawled under her gaze. “You know how to sound high-class, and you sound innocent. But the questions you ask tell me that you’re sharp enough to handle a job like this. And you need the money badly enough to know that you can’t say no. Are you in or are you out?”

You were in. You felt like you were walking into a trap, but you were in, and you’re still in now. Which is why you don’t take your headset off, even when it hurts your ear. Which is why, when a call comes in and you see that every operator has at least two minutes left in their current session, you hit accept and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to Shiroiwa Services. I’m not your conversational partner for the evening, but I’d love to keep you company while you’re waiting.”

“What are you wearing?”

You sigh inwardly and make a checkmark in the notepad where you keep track of terrible opening lines. You get that one about seventy percent of the time, and you increase the pitch of your voice ever so slightly as you pull up the caller’s details. “Why do you want to know?”

“So I can picture you just right.”

Gross. The client’s in his fifties, and Mizuho’s been nice enough to give you a heads-up that he’s married – and when he’s called in before, he’s wanted to talk to young-sounding operators. “Just my uniform, sir,” you say. You give a beat, then follow up. “My school uniform.”

You’re lying. You work strictly back of house, and right now you’re wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, and a shirt you stole from one of the operators that says ‘men’s tits’ on it. But the guy on the phone doesn’t know that. “A schoolgirl,” he says, and you can practically hear him drooling into the phone. “Does your daddy know what you’re doing right now?”

Your daddy’s probably calling a phone sex line as you speak. You know for a fact that he’s too poor to afford Shiroiwa, but you still live in fear of the day where you have to transfer his call. “No, sir,” you say. “Please don’t tell him. It can be our secret. I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

Before the client can say anything else, a green light pops up on your screen – Minami is open for business. Perfect. “It’s been so nice to speak with you, sir. I’ll transfer you to Minami presently. Have a sensational evening!”

The client dallies a little bit, hinting that he’d rather talk to you than Minami, but you shake him off in fifteen seconds or less and finally pry your headset off your ear. Then you flop facedown on your desk. You hate your job. You love that it pays, but you really, really, really hate your job. “Ugh.”

“Heard you on the phone.” Haruka, one of the escorts, punches you in the arm on her way out the door to meet the car that will take her to tonight’s engagement. She puts on a high-pitched voice. “I’m really good at keeping secrets –”

“What was I supposed to do? I can’t talk about how horny I am. That’s illegal.”

“For another eight months. Then we’ll get you.”

“You wish.” Eight months from now, you’ll be out of here. You think. You hope. As your headset lights up with another call, you might actually pray.

You wanted to be a doctor, but that takes money – and although nobody will admit it, it takes a quirk. Nursing school is less expensive, but once again, no nursing school likes to take on quirkless students. It pisses you off to think about it. Sure, some quirks are suited to the medical field, but a guy with a quirk that lets him blow bubbles with his own snot isn’t any more suited to be a nurse than you are with no quirk at all. But thinking that way lies madness, so you turned to the rest of the field and found your dream job. Dynamic. In high demand. Still expensive, but cheaper than everything else. EMT school. You’re going to be a paramedic, and doing office work for a high-end sex service is how you’re going to pay for it.

You route three more calls, babysit one client who wants to know what you’re wearing and how much of it you’ll take off, and confirm addresses and code phrases for three of the escorts before they head out. There are three tiers of service at Shiroiwa. At the top are the real escorts – Akiko, Mayumi, Sakura, Kyoko, Akane, the ones who go out on dates and pull in big money. Then there are the ones who work as servers and dancers at fancy parties – Takako, Yukie, Keiko, and a whole bunch of others whose names you keep forgetting. There are a lot of them. Then there are the phone and chat sex operators, of which there are even more, and all the way down under the foundations of the pyramid, there’s you.

Your job, as Akiko puts it, is to fill the holes. Every place where a detail or a client might fall through the cracks, that’s where you’re supposed to be to catch them. It keeps you on your toes. You tell yourself that it’s good practice for the job you really want to do, and some nights, you almost believe it.

Saturday night is busy, but there are lulls here and there, and whenever there’s a lull, you take out your textbook and do a little studying. You’re decent at biology, but it takes work, and you need to pass your entrance exam to EMT school on your first try. You’re in the middle of familiarizing yourself with all the parts of the limbic system when your headset starts beeping – and when you check your screen, you see that every single operator is busy. Again.

You get paid a flat hourly rate, but you really should negotiate that up for nights you spend keeping clients occupied while they wait. You answer the phone and run through your spiel – your operator’s not ready yet, but I’m here, and I’m super psyched to talk to a weirdo just like you – and wait for the inevitable question about what you’re wearing. You wait. And wait.

And keep waiting, so long that you start to wonder if the call’s dropped when you weren’t looking. That, or the client got so wound up hearing a woman’s voice on the phone that they had a heart attack and died. You try again. “Hello?”

The call’s still live. You hear your voice echo on the other end of the line, and when you listen closer, you can hear someone breathing. Breathing sort of heavily. Great. “You know I get paid whether you talk or not, right?”

Oops. You shouldn’t have said that. Akiko will be pissed, and if whoever this is pays up, does it really matter if he says anything? Maybe he just wants to breathe heavily into the phone until time’s up. You’d like to thing you can sit quietly while some guy does – something – to the sound of your breathing on your end of the line, but it turns out that’s beyond your power to cope with. “Um, do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“What?”

“Clients usually ask that,” you say, trying to cover your shock. This client sounds young. Shiroiwa’s price point is so high that next to none of the clients are younger than forty, but this guy sounds like he’s barely out of high school. You should know. You’re barely out of high school yourself. “They want to know what I’m wearing so they can – um, imagine a little better.”

Silence. The breathing sounds a little less heavy and a little more hyperventilating, and you resist the urge to bang your head on the table with an effort. Why do you always get stuck with the weird ones? “So, like I said, I’m not actually the person you’re supposed to talk to. I’m just here to keep you company until your partner’s ready for you. We don’t have to talk at all.”

You’re rapidly coming to the conclusion that not talking is the best outcome for this situation. You and the client can pretend each other isn’t there until you can transfer him to somebody else, somebody who’s good with the weird ones or the shy ones. Rika, maybe. She’s good at bringing clients out of their shells. The fact that she and you and anybody else who listens in wishes they’d never come out of their shells in the first place doesn’t really matter.

“Who are you, then?” The raspy voice is in your ear again. “If you’re not who I’m supposed to talk to.”

“I’m admin. Kind of a secretary.” You kick yourself instantly for the choice of words. “Not the sexy kind of secretary. Just – I’m the one who routes the phone calls. And the messages from our chat service. Unless it’s busy.”

“It’s busy?”

“Saturday night? It’s really busy,” you say. He sounds disappointed. “Is there somebody you were hoping to talk to specifically? I can let you know how long of a wait there will be.”

“I don’t care who I talk to,” the client says. You hear that from new clients a lot, before they pick a favorite. All the regulars have favorites. “This was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say hastily. Akiko will kill you if you lose a client. Even a weird client. “Tell me what you want to talk about. That way I can pick the right partner to send to you.”

“I don’t know,” the client says. You glance at the info Mizuho sent and get a shock – the client’s twenty, just a year older than you. “It’s – fuck. It’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you say on autopilot, which is apparently the wrong thing to say. You can practically feel the client’s discomfort oozing through the phone, and you spin off into a sales pitch that sounds terrible even to you. “Well, you’ve called the right service. I know a ton of our companions who can make your day really special.”

“Too fucking late.” The client sounds bitter about it, or maybe just sad. Definitely pissed that he feels that way. “This was stupid. I just wanted –”

“Someone to talk to,” you realize before he can finish the sentence, and you hear a startled inhale on the other end of the line. He’s going to be prickly about it. You would be, if somebody read you like that. “What did you do today?”

“What did I do today?”

“Look, we can talk about that, or I can tell you what I’m wearing. Up to you.” You hear a weird sound. Is he choking or laughing? “What did you do today?”

“Nothing. Slept until three. Played a few games.”

“Which games?” you ask. “Something tells me you’re not a board game type of guy. Are you an FPS type, or more into MMORPGs –”

“You know what that is?”

He sounds surprised. “I’m more of a D&D type myself,” you say. You, two of the phone sex operators, and three of your friends from high school all have a campaign going. “But I know what the cool kids play. Are you a team player?”

“Solo.”

“Impressive,” you say. “It takes skill to go it alone. I’m only good as part of a team.”

It’s weird to say something honest about yourself on the phone with a client. You know for a fact that Akiko always shares certain details – she says it makes them feel closer to her, makes them easier to manage – but you’re not a companion. You lie every time you’re on the phone with a client. This is the first time you’ve ever said anything true, and it feels weird. It’s not a habit you want to get into.

The client, meanwhile, is finally starting to loosen up. “So that’s what you’re doing when you’re not answering phones at a phone sex line? Playing games?”

“No, usually I’m studying.”

“Studying what?”

Too personal, again. You need to shut it down. “Do you really want to talk about me?”

“Better than talking about me.” The client’s voice takes on a weird flat note, one you don’t know how to identify over the phone. “What would have happened, anyway? If I’d talked to somebody else.”

“You’re going to talk to somebody else.” None of the other operators are free yet. “Well, to start with, they’d probably tell you what they’re wearing.”

The client snickers. You made him laugh. Why does that feel like an achievement? “Um, and then you’d probably have phone sex. That’s what they do.”

“But not what you do.”

What is that supposed to mean? “Definitely not. Like I said, I just route the phone calls. And keep clients company while they wait.” It’s silent. You wait, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “If you tell me what kind of phone sex you want to have –”

Your screen flashes. “All right, we have an open operator. A couple open operators. If you tell me a little bit about what you’re looking for, I can match you up.”

Ordinarily, you don’t play matchmaker like this, but you’re weirdly invested in making sure that this client has a positive phone sex experience on his twentieth birthday. “Uh –” the client breaks off, clears his throat. “I don’t want to talk to any of them.”

“Um –”

“Can I just talk to you?”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” You watch, agonized, as three calls pile up in the queue behind this one. “You don’t actually want to talk to me. You’re paying by the minute for someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“If you transfer me, I’ll hang up.” The client’s not threatening you, you don’t think – just telling you how it’s going to be. Some part of you appreciates the clarity. “I want to talk to you. You can even tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, and even though you know it’s a terrible idea, you hit transfer, sending the three queued calls to the open operators and keeping this client on the line with you. “It’s not worth talking about. Tell me about you. On the scale of worst to best birthdays ever, where does this one fall?”

“The shit end.” The client’s answer should have been predictable, but his follow-up isn’t: “Moving up a bit, though.”

“Why was it shitty?” you ask, knowing as you do that it’s a mistake. You don’t need to know why the client had a shitty birthday, except to know that it’s shitty enough that he called a phone sex line to have someone to talk to. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” The client’s voice gets quieter. “Nothing ever happens.”

You somehow manage to restrain yourself from going down the list, checking off all the birthday stuff to make sure the client’s really telling the truth. The client starts filling in the blanks without being prompted. “I don’t need any of it. I can buy my own presents. And a cake. And fucking balloons if I want them. What am I supposed to do then? Sing happy fucking birthday to myself?”

“That would be pretty sad,” you agree. “Want me to sing to you?”

The client makes a weird sound. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t actually want to sing to me. You don’t know me. You’re only on the phone at all because I’m paying you.”

“That’s how you got on the phone with me, sure,” you say. “But I don’t have to know you to think you should get at least one birthday song. Even if it’s from me.”

It’s quiet for a second. “You sure you don’t just want to tell me what you’re wearing?”

You decide to hell with it and start singing anyway. Quietly, and making at least a little effort to stay on key. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear –”

You stop when you realize you don’t know the client’s name, and you wait for him to fill it in. And wait. And wait. “Are you going to finish it or not?” the client asks.

“I need your name first. Otherwise it won’t be the real birthday song.” You’re aware that this is ridiculous – you’re singing happy birthday to a client who called Shiroiwa’s phone sex line and got stage fright so bad that he decided he’d rather talk to you. “Happy birthday dear –”

“Tenko.”

“Happy birthday dear Tenko,” you sing, “happy birthday to you.”

It’s quiet for a second. You’re still not great with silence. “Was that so hard?”

“No,” the client – Tenko – says. It’s quiet for longer this time. “That was –”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

That’s Akiko’s voice. Shit. You look up in horror and find her bearing down on you, dressed to the nines and wearing heels that probably make her taller than All Might. “There are eight calls in the queue and seven operators with no clients, and instead of doing your job you’re on the phone with a friend –”

“You’re in trouble,” Tenko says. It’s not a question.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to go,” you say. “I can transfer you –”

“I don’t want a transfer. Do you really have to –”

The look on Akiko’s face says yes. “I’m really sorry. Look, um –”

“What’s your name?” Tenko asks. Akiko is looking for the ‘end call’ button, but she’s not great with tech. You’ve got ten seconds or so before she realizes it’s on your headset and rips it off your head. “Come on. You know my name. It’s not fair if I don’t know yours.”

“My friends call me Nine,” you say. They do when you’re playing D&D, at least – that’s your character’s name. “I have to go.”

Tenko says something else, or starts to, but you press the end call button yourself and face up to your boss, assigning the queued calls as quickly as possible. “It was a client,” you say, before she can say a word. “The meter was running the whole time.”

Akiko’s temper comes down a notch when she hears it was a paid call, but you’re not out of the woods yet. “You should have transferred him.”

“He said he’d hang up.”

“This operation is barely legal as it is, and you’re underage. If you were talking about anything sexual –”           

“We weren’t. He just turned twenty,” you say desperately. “He didn’t even want to know what I was wearing.”

Akiko blinks. “Really?”

“I tried,” you say. She nods, bemused. “I shouldn’t have let the other calls wait. I’m sorry.”

“As long as you don’t do it again,” Akiko says. She’s smiling, but you’d be an idiot if you thought she was telling the truth. She leans over and checks the call receipt on your screen. “Mm, this was a nice long conversation. What were the two of you discussing?”

“I don’t really know.” At least half the conversation was you trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Am I in trouble?”

“None of the calls have been dropped, and that client of yours paid the same price for you as he would have for one of my operators. You aren’t in trouble,” Akiko says. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You turn back to your screen and transfer the last queued client, watching as the clock on your computer flips from 11:59 to 12:00am. It’s not Tenko’s birthday anymore. You wonder if he got what he wanted out of calling Shiroiwa Services. Probably not.

taglist: @f3r4lfr0gg3r @lvtuss @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @evilcookie5 @deadhands69 @shigarakislaughter @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @handumb @agente707 @warxhammer @issaortiz @stardustdreamersisi @cheeseonatower @boogiemansbitch @koohiii @baking-ghoul @atspiss @shikiblessed @aslutforfictionalmen

[fruityhahn]

hi friends! it's time for a new version of my archive post.

The Hahnaissance Archive is a comprehensive document where you can locate all of kathryn hahn’s projects as well as rare bonus content/interviews. it was created by a friend of mine and it's now entirely run by me.

unlinked are streaming services that each project exists on (please watch on those if you can!) and linked are free places to watch (or use for edits/gifsets). all links are as safe as possible and I have noted which projects are rare for ease of locating.

this resource is now fully serving as an archive, since censorship will be on the rise and queer and sexual content will be the first to go. I urge you to use and share these links responsibly.

please dm me (on any platform or even anon me on here) if you have links to share, if anything breaks, or if there's anything you want me to find.

happy watching!

edit december 15th 2024:

the archive is complete as of now! I will be adding new projects as they come out but please bear with me as i'm just one person!

although it is complete (as I have at least something for everything) I am still actively looking for:

- bad moms on the price is right

- wanderlust behind the scenes

- dark around the stars (technically lost media)

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) has spent the first six weeks of the new Trump administration turning the federal government upside down. It has moved from agency to agency, accessing sensitive data and payment systems, all on a supposed crusade to audit the government and stop fraud, waste, and abuse. DOGE has posted some of its “findings” on its website, many of which have been revealed to be errors.

But two federal auditors with years of experience, who have both worked on financial and technical audits for the government, say that DOGE’s actions are the furthest thing from what an actual audit looks like. Both asked to speak on the condition of anonymity because they weren’t permitted to speak to the press.

“Honestly, comparing real auditing to what DOGE is doing, there’s no comparison,” says one of the auditors who spoke to WIRED. “None of them are auditors.”

In September, in a speech during the presidential campaign, then candidate Donald Trump said that he would create a government efficiency task force, headed by Musk, which would do a “complete financial and performance audit of the entire federal government.” Musk initially said that he wanted to cut $2 trillion from the federal budget, more than the entire 2023 discretionary budget of $1.7 trillion. Musk has since tempered his ambitions, saying he’d aim to cut $1 trillion in government spending. Still, he has alleged that much of this money can be cut by identifying waste, fraud, and abuse, and has continued to claim DOGE’s cuts of agency staff and resources are all part of an audit.

While there are certainly instances of government money siphoned off to fraud—a Government Accountability Office study published in 2024 estimated that the government loses between $233 billion and $521 billion to fraud each year—even recovering all that spending wouldn’t amount to the $1 trillion Musk hopes to cut from the budget.

The auditors who spoke to WIRED allege that not only is Musk’s claim not true, but also that DOGE appears to have completely eschewed the existing processes for actually rooting out waste, fraud, and abuse.

“An audit that follows Generally Accepted Government Auditing Standards (GAGAS), also known as a Yellow Book audit, is conducted in accordance with the standards issued by the US Government Accountability Office,” says the first auditor. Audits can focus on the finances, compliance, or performance of an agency. “That is the gold standard for how you audit the government.”

There are generally five phases of a GAGAS audit, the auditors tell WIRED: planning, evidence gathering, evaluation, reporting, and follow up. Auditors work to define the scope of an audit, identify all the applicable laws and standards, and come up with an audit plan. Next, auditors conduct interviews with staff, review financial records, and comb through data, reports, and transactions, documenting all the way. From there, auditors will assess that information against policies or procedures to figure out if there’s been some kind of alleged waste, fraud, or abuse and issue a report detailing their findings and offering recommendations. Often, those reports are made available to the public. After an audit, the auditors can follow up with the agency to ensure changes are being made.

There are also very technical definitions for what constitutes waste, fraud, or abuse. Waste could mean that there are inefficiencies in a program that might lead to purchasing more of something that goes unused, or paying more for a service than is necessary. Fraud involves intentional deception—for instance, bribery or falsifying business records. Abuse means doing things that aren’t necessarily illegal, but that are unethical. This could look like nepotism or favoritism in hiring, or spending excessively on travel.

In a recent interview with podcaster Joe Rogan, Musk said he believed that the government was “one big pyramid scheme” and alleged that “entitlements fraud” is a “gigantic magnetic force to pull people in from all around the world and keep them here.”

The two auditors told WIRED that going through the technological and financial minutiae of even just a single project or part of an agency can take anywhere from six to 18 months.

“You can’t coherently audit something like the whole Social Security system in a week or two,” says the second auditor. It’s exactly this rush to crack systems open without full understanding, the auditors say, that has led to Elon Musk’s false claims that 150-year-olds were receiving Social Security benefits. “It could be that DOGE didn’t de-dupe the data.”

“In no uncertain terms is this an audit,” claims the second auditor. “It’s a heist, stealing a vast amount of government data.”

Federal workers who have spoken to WIRED say they are worried that their own data could be used to surveil and target them for firings based on their identities or political views. There are also concerns that DOGE could access contracts and procurement data that contain sensitive information that companies provide in order to work with the federal government. DOGE has also deployed an AI chatbot within the General Services Administration (GSA) and appears to want to expand the use of such tools, bolstered by access to government data. New court documents also indicate that Marko Elez, the former DOGE representative at the Treasury Department, shared a spreadsheet with personally identifying information outside the agency.

And without time spent for auditors to understand a new data system—like interviewing agency staff or learning the coding language—the first auditor believes it’s likely the DOGE team is flying blind. “When they collect a dataset, they don't get it with any sort of description, I imagine,” they say. “There are no terms of use for any government systems … There's no supporting testimony from data system owners, from data system experts. They don't even know the language and the database systems that they're working in. That’s why they keep messing up.”

The auditors described a lengthy vetting process that allowed them to get the permissions necessary to dive into an agency’s data and systems. In addition to going through the initial vetting process, the auditors say that they are required to engage in continuing education.

“None of them have any auditing background, none have any certifications, none have any clearances,” says the first auditor.

Federal workers who have spoken to WIRED expressed concern that DOGE’s operatives appear to have bypassed the normal security clearance protocols in order to access sensitive systems. WIRED found that many of DOGE’s youngest members, all of whom were 25 or younger, have very limited work experience, and none in the government. One, Edward Coristine, who goes by “Big Balls” online, appears to be a 19-year-old high school graduate. Despite this, they were given high-level access at places like the GSA, the Social Security Administration, and the Treasury. Others, like those at the Federal Aviation Administration, come directly from Musk’s own companies and were not fully vetted before their start dates.

The auditors also noted that even canceling contracts, as DOGE has done, can add to costs, rather than reduce them, in the long run. For instance, often the government negotiates deals on large purchases where it gets discounts for bulk purchases. Canceling a contract likely not only means the government needs to pay some kind of fee to compensate for the contract cancellation—maybe 10 to 15 percent of the contract amount—but if some or part of that purchase needs to be reinstated later, that initial bulk discount will likely be gone, making it more expensive overall. This was the case with many of the software licenses that DOGE said it wanted to cut.

Since sweeping through the government, DOGE has canceled thousands of government contracts, including 10,000 specifically for humanitarian aid. According to reporting from the Associated Press, 40 percent of those canceled contracts through late February will likely not save the government any money.

“They'll end up costing more in some way, whether it's time, inconvenience, or money,” says the second auditor.

But the auditors say that there are ways DOGE could get it right. “If DOGE wanted to be the good guys, they could,” says the first auditor. “I’d start by looking at existing Inspector General recommendations.” On the website for the Inspector General for the Department of Health and Human Services, for instance, there are more than 1,200 recommendations that have yet to be implemented that could potentially save the government hundreds of millions of dollars.

In an interview on FOX Business with Larry Kudlow, when asked about how his team was identifying what to go after in the government, Musk replied, “We look at the president's executive orders, and we also just follow the money.”

The auditors say they aren’t necessarily against bringing in people from outside the government to help streamline government processes—something that the government was already doing before Trump was sworn in for his second term. For instance, 18F, the digital services agency within the GSA’s Technology Transformation Services, was explicitly designed to serve as an in-house consultancy that would allow federal agencies to leverage private sector expertise. As part of DOGE’s sweep of the government, however, it has gutted the group, putting a pause on several ongoing projects to make government services more efficient for users.

And it’s these actions, the second auditor says, that best show that DOGE’s intentions may not be geared toward “efficiency” at all. “It’s a con,” they allege.

The White House did not immediately respond to a request for comment.