Hot Dog

I stare at the man standing across the road. No customers in the cafe- I can stare for awhile. In fact I get a lot of looking done here because there are never really any customers. Way more good unbroken gazing then I get in on unpaid time. It is something maybe one day I might miss about this cafe though probably not. It is but a single drop in a stale crema ocean of cafes I’ve worked in, stared in, smiled at those I’ve realised I’ve accidentally been staring at.

This cafe is not necessarily more forgettable than the others, though it is so quiet and the two owners are particularly sad and clueless for white guys in their fifties. This would usually inspire some sympathy in me because I have been raised around that demographic, and often, however much it speaks to my detriment, get along with those in it. Maybe if these two weren’t also often angry, cold and humourless. One of the two is going through a divorce. The other day I caught him jerking off in the back office, which is also the first time he made me laugh.

I don’t know for sure because it all happened very quickly. Maybe he was just watching porn and considering jerking off, hand hovering over his zipper. I had to go to the toilet which passed by his office, and because I was the only staff member on shift was letting him know the front was going to be unsupervised for a moment.  I knocked on his door as I opened it in one efficient action of one who really needs to wee. Efficiency and multi-tasking were both dot points on my resume so really he had been forewarned. 

I glimpsed somebody sucking somebody else’s dick. It was a close up angle that hovered there on the screen for the longest second while he flailed about minimising the incriminating window and opening another. It was the shrillness of voice and the fear on his usually stoney face which really gave him away. I almost wanted to tell him so. I am very prone to self doubt it really wouldn’t have taken much confidence from him to convince me I’d not seen what I’d seen. I spun on my heels so he wouldn’t catch my smirk. 

When I returned from the toilet and walked by his office he called to me from the now open door. I hovered at the door way while he opened an image on his computer, something his friend had sent him. The image hovered on the screen. It was a photograph of a man eating a very, very large hotdog. The background looked like it was happening at some kind of fair. There was grass and tents. The mans jaw was opened wide in a mock attempt to take a bite out of the giant hotdog. He must have been posing for the camera. There was no way he was going to fit all that hotdog into his mouth. 

My boss gave a strained laugh. Isn’t it ridiculous? He’s always sending me ridiculous things like this from the Internet. What do you think- should we put one on the menu?

I looked between the image on the screen and his eyes. He laughed again, nervously and this time I joined him in laughter, but mine came out loud and real. Yes, I said. Yes, you should.