Taking my job a little too seriously...

I decided to go out for breakfast this morning. This means a crummy little Mexican food place on the highway with excellent salsa and substantial bacon, egg and cheese burritos. It is usually only me, a few tables of construction workers and a handful of retired farmers who seem genetically incapable of sleeping past sunrise. Being the only non-waitress female usually results in a few stares. They seem to be asking “Why aren’t you at home cooking breakfast for your husband?” (Answer: he’s still in bed, he doesn’t eat much breakfast, and he’s damn well capable of cooking it for himself and besides all that, who said I was married?)

This morning a group of hardhats were sitting at the back. They all turned to look when the door opened. Unimpressed, most of them turned back to their eggs. One guy didn’t. He kept staring. I stared back.

Throughout the meal, whenever I looked up from my book, I would catch him staring at me. I would stare back until he flinched into eye contact and had to look away. The longer I stared, the more familiar he seemed.

I bet he is on probation. I bet we filed to revoke the probation and there’s an arrest warrant out for him, or something. The more I stared, the more it made sense. He is probably worried that I’m going to call the cops and tell them where he works. It became clear. When I got to the office, I would go through the photos on the revocation files and see if I could find him. Then I would call the police and tell them where to pick him up. Satisfied with my plan, I finished breakfast.

When I got to the office the secretary greeted me and said “Did you know your hair is sticking straight up on top? I didn’t know if that was the look you wanted.”

I decided not to waste my time searching for a warrant on some poor guy who has probably never seen such a bad case of bed-head.