My triumphant return to my homeland has been somewhat tight-lipped. As such, I often see people around town that are unaware of my proximity. When our eyes meet, which I avoid at all costs, I see curiosity.
"Hey, nice to see you," they might say. "Are you back for good?"
I answer with politeness as short as possible, "Yes," and the curious look turns to betrayal.
They then say, "You are? Why didn't I know about this?"
Similar interactions have repeated frequently in the three months I have been back in Idaho, with one bright exception:
My brother invited me to a "business lunch" one afternoon. It is against Young Nature to decline anything free, especially food, so I gladly accepted. Upon arrival, and after leaving Denny's with a free Grandslam Breakfast, I chatted with the restaurant manager, an old friend, and avoided another person caught in the corner of my eye. We were seated and all was well ... and then it happened. The person whom I had deliberately placed in the corner of my eye was now forefront, the owner of the businesses I managed prior to New York.
We had an awkward exchange, and then I realized something. "Are you our server?" I asked.
"Yes, I am," he said.
I could hardly believe it. For the tiniest fraction of a second I felt a bit of sympathy, but it quickly grew into an evil pleasure. And I spoke, "Well, this will be nice for a change."
I placed my order with the server training the man now serving me.
Are you talking about SB?
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