could you be a spy?

I've been thinking about spies. Likely (spoiler alert) because of Elizabeth from the Thursday Murder Club series (see book review, July 6 2024). The only true spy that I've ever met was a friend's grandmother, who apparently was a spy in WW2, but I didn't know that at the time I met her and therefore couldn't ask her about it. On second thought, maybe she isn't the only spy I've ever met; by definition, I shouldn't be able to tell, right?

I joke that my husband would be a terrible spy, because he can't lie. His tone changes, his face, his posture, he overcompensates, he talks too much. Surprisingly, he does well at a game called Liar's Dice, but to win he wears sunglasses and a hat, talks in a robotic voice while looking at his hands, and distracts opponents with endless arguments about possible moves they could make. Not the image of discretion.
     What about me, could I be a spy? How does someone not blush, sweat, have shaking hands, a skyrocketing heart rate? I have all of those things when I'm nervous; often, the family can tell when I'm planning a takeover while playing hearts, never mind state secrets. I fully understand that lying (or covering up) during a card game is not remotely the same as being a spy. I'm pointing out that if you cannot hide your emotions in such a low-stakes situation, you should definitely not become a spy.
     If we look at spy movies—James Bond and so on—there's a lot of killing involved. A lot of identities to keep track of. A lot of unusual skills, from parkour to machine-gun-loading to playing high stakes poker. Likely real-life spying is a lot more stress and a lot less gadgetry. And what if you are recognized? How many times have you run into someone familiar in an inconceivable setting? Contrary to Superman, wearing glasses is not a great disguise.
     Maybe movies are a bad example. In the book The Alice Network, there were intense descriptions of things that might give you away: responding to your real name, failing to respond to your spy name. Hearing a language you understand, but pretending you heard nothing (imagine hearing "help me" said in English in a whisper, could you keep your eyes from looking?) Medicine may seem stressful, and sometimes a life is at stake, but it feels like nothing when compared to being a spy.
     It's a bit odd, when you think about it, that we view murder mysteries and spy thrillers as a source of entertainment. What does that say about us? That we live in peace, I suppose, that we live in a way that these horrific things don't feel like they apply. Surely, if we lived surrounded by real murder and intrigue, we would not want to view them or read about them.
     I'm glad I'm not Elizabeth, however interesting her past or current life might be. I'd be a terrible spy, so medicine was a much better choice. Someday, maybe I will speak to a true spy and find out what it's really like. If you are one, you can discreetly let me know.