Likely Normal

I’ve done tons of flash drive drops at client sites and not a one has passed. There’s something about finding a random flash drive on the ground that triggers a primal, almost mythological level of curiosity. It’s like discovering a tiny digital treasure chest—one that could contain anything from bitcoin fortunes to a stranger’s unfinished novel about sentient toasters. Common sense screams “Don’t plug it in,” but our inner raccoon, dazzled by shiny objects, whispers …but what if it’s free crypto?

The rationalizations come fast: “I’ll just plug it into an old laptop!” (You don’t own an old laptop.) “I’ll scan it for viruses first!” (You have no idea how to do that.) “It’s probably fine!” (It’s never fine.) Yet, against all logic, you jam that suspicious little rectangle into your USB port like a medieval peasant biting into a suspicious mushroom just in case it’s magical.

The possibilities dance in your head: Maybe it’s a millionaire’s lost wallet file. Maybe it’s Hollywood’s next big screenplay (“Die Hard 6: Toaster Sentinels”). Or maybe—just maybe—it’s a disgruntled IT worker’s final “screw you” to humanity, waiting to turn your computer into a Bitcoin mining slave for the Russian mob. The gamble is half the thrill. It’s like playing Russian roulette, but instead of bullets, the chambers contain:

• A PDF of someone’s 2007 tax returns (boring)
• Malware that makes your desktop icons scream (terrifying)
• The entire Bee Movie script, but in Comic Sans (existentially confusing)

Of course, 99% of the time, you’re rewarded with a folder named “Backup (2009)” containing three blurry vacation photos and a half-finished PowerPoint about “Synergizing Vertical Markets.” But that 1% chance of chaos? That’s what keeps us plugging in. Humanity didn’t survive this long by not poking mysterious things—we just updated our tools from sticks to flash drives.

Moral of the story? Always carry a burner laptop. Or, you know, embrace the inevitable malware and start practicing your Russian.