Ali Baba, the 12 Thieves, and the 47 Consultants

Once upon a time there was a poor state employee named Ali Baba. Although he was intelligent, capable, and hardworking, things just weren’t happening for him at the Department of the Casbah. One day, as he was returning home late from work, his luck began to change...
    It had been a long and frustrating day, and Ali was anxious to get home. Unfortunately, he found his way blocked by a miscellaneous swarm of people milling aimlessly about. Some wore robes and turbans. Some wore business suits and ties. Some were pounding away at laptop computers. Others stood at the foot of the mountain near Ali's home, muttering and arguing. Occasionally one of them would shout at the mountain.
    "5-2-3-1-6!"
    "Don't forget your alphas and special characters, you fool!"
    "h- 6-4-*-2! Is it case-sensitive? I can't remember!"
    "Mohammad!"
    "Never use a relative’s name, you doofus! Anyone can figure that out!"
    "Open Sesame!" ventured one. The others looked at him sadly and shook their heads.
    At first, Ali was merely annoyed. Then he recognized the face of one of the swarm.
    "Good Allah!" he gasped. "You are the leader of the notorious Forty Thieves! I have seen your face on the wanted posters!"
    "That's right!" snarled the bandit chief. "Give me your Social Security Number or I'll cut out your liver!"
    "I beg your pardon?" stammered Ali, too surprised to be frightened.
    "Your Social, you Son of a Dog! I need it to enter you into the LOOTS database!"
    "The WHAT?"
    "LOOTS! LOOTS!" shrieked the bandit chief. "It stands for Lucre Of Our Thieves System. It's the latest in robbery technology. But I've got to have your Social. It's the key to getting to all your assets. But more importantly, it's the primary key to the Victim table. I can't retrieve your information without it."
    "Well, I don't give my Social Security Number to just any bandit I meet on the street!" huffed Ali indignantly.
    The bandit chief slumped noticeably.
    "Aw, who am I kidding?" he said. "It's over. I couldn't take candy from a baby with this lot. I couldn't peel the skin off a banana. I couldn't lift a sack of feathers. I couldn't ..." And the ferocious robber began to sob as if his heart would break.
    Ali went from horror to pity in a twinkling. He put his arm around the chieftain's shoulders.
    "What's the matter?" he coaxed soothingly. "C'mon. It can’t be that bad. Please don't cry."
    The bandit chief struggled manfully to regain his composure. "The business is changing," he griped. "It all started with the employee cap."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "Oh, of course you wouldn't know. The Council of Thieves imposed a cap on the number of thieves we bandit chiefs could hire. Economy measure, they said. From my heyday of 40 vicious, bloodthirsty fiends, I'm down to a mere dozen."
    "Why, that's terrible!" said Ali consolingly. "How can you carry on your business without adequate staff? Have you spoken to the Council about this?"
    "Indeed, I have!" sputtered the chief indignantly.
    "And?"
    "They said I could hire all the consultants I wanted to take up the slack."
    "Well, that sounds fair," said Ali hopefully. "So, did you hire any?"
    "Did I ever!" exclaimed the chief. "They're the ones with the neckties."
    "Seems like a lot. How many of them are there?"
    "Forty-seven at last count."
    "But I suppose the consultants are cheaper, since this is an economy measure."
    "No, they're more expensive."
    "But they must be better thieves than the ones you let go."
    "Worse, I'm afraid. A lot of them are the guys other bands of thieves had to lay off. They're contracting now. I have to pay them more, but they don't know my business as well, and I can't give them the same responsibilities because they don't actually work for me. On second thought, I guess they are better thieves. They're robbing me blind!"
    "Ah, but they can advise you on how to make your operations more efficient!"
    "Well, they're helping me automate. The Council said I had to do more with less. So, now we have LOOTS. Judge for yourself how effective that is. Then there's that." The chief gestured toward the group of thieves and consultants at the foot of the mountain.
    Ali was at a loss. "What on earth is that all about?"
    The chief began to cry again. "All my treasure is inside that mountain," he explained. "We used to be able to get in and out by shouting, 'Open Sesame!'. But then the consultants told me I had to change the password every 90 days so that hackers couldn't break in and steal my treasure. Now nobody can remember what the password is."
    "I don't get it," said Ali. "Why would the Council of Thieves do this to you? It's wasteful and expensive. It doesn't make your gang any better. What's the point?"
    "Remember that it's the Council of Thieves," sighed the chief. "They got there by being the best. They're in league with the consulting firms. Together, they're making out like, well, bandits. The scam is so awesome that, frankly, it's hard to be too mad at them."
    Ali and the bandit chief parted that night with promises to get together for a beer sometime. For Ali, it had been an education and a turning point. He left the Department of the Casbah and ran for state office on the promise that he would bring efficiency and economy to the government. Once elected, he adopted the program of the Council of Thieves and never wanted for anything again.