One of my dreams as a kid was to grow up and become a spy. In my 20s, I began purchasing and acquiring spy-related devices. (Years later, I went as far as to enroll in a Private Investigator course at my local vo-tech.) Before long I hand a held radio scanner to listen to police chatter and cordless phone conversations, a small FM transmitter (a “bug”), a set of auto lock pick tools, a regular set of lock picks, some binoculars, a small telescope, night vision goggles, and this thing — the Super Ear.

This exact same device is marketed two different ways. In mainstream circles, the Super Ear is sold as a hearing aid. It’s a directional mic that boosts audio; simply point the small microphone toward someone speaking and the small box amplifies any sounds the microphone picks up. In “spy” circles, this same device is marketed as an eavesdropping device, useful for listening to conversations just out of earshot.

I never had a real use for the Super Ear. Once, I stood in my driveway and watched my neighbor come home with a car full of groceries. I stood, leaning against the hood of my car, with the Super Ear turned on and pointed in her direction. Moments later her husband came out, and the woman said something to him. I turned the volume up, and captured this nugget:

“There’s more in the back.”

Moments later the two of them looked at me to try and figure out what in the world I was doing. I pretended like I was changing the wiper blade on my car.

I used the Super Ear a few more times. I listened to those same neighbors discuss their tulips. I listened to a couple of kids debate whether they should go fishing or not. From halfway across the house, I listened to Susan cook spaghetti.

It didn’t take long for the Super Ear to go back in its box, where it has lived for the past decade (maybe two). Each time I run across the box I consider tossing it, but in the back of my mind there’s always that possibility that I might become a spy, which helps Super Ear survive another round of spring cleaning.