Watch Men

One of the bar-backs at my work alerted me to some strange activity today.  He approached me during the lunch shift and inquired about my “situation”, indicating to my ankle.  Most people working at the restaurant are aware of what’s been going on with me, but some are still finding out about it through the grapevine.  This bar-back has only recently become privy to it, and politely asked me today if I wouldn’t mind filling him in a little.  He asked how long I’d been on house arrest, and if “they check” on me at work.  I said that yes, my probation officer has dropped in once that I’m aware of, and that she only stood outside of the glass-walled restaurant to confirm that I was there.  I guess that the GPS device isn’t totally fool-proof.  I’ve actually heard of people who are dumb enough to somehow take it off and strap it to their cat while they sneak out somewhere.

The bar-back nodded and asked in practiced English, “So, the guys, they check on you?”  “No, I have two probation officers, but they’re both women.”

He went on to tell me how two men have been frequenting the restaurant directly across from ours.  He works a second job as a busser there, and long before he was aware of my legal circumstance, he noted their behavior as odd.  By his account, there are two white men, one short with a mustache and one tall, who started coming to the opposite restaurant twice a week in November, and have continued their routine ever since.  He said that they come dressed as civilians, but that he has noticed them wearing badges.  He told me that they come in the afternoon, order coffee, and occupy the first table inside that easily looks out across the courtyard to us.  He said that after a few minutes, one of the men always leaves the table to go outside and stand directly in front of the patio of our restaurant, stare silently into the business for about 45 minutes to an hour, and then both men leave.  He said that a few weeks ago, when he’d first caught wind of my situation, he realized that the men were only coming in when I was working across the way, where they could easily observe me.

By no means am I saying that I know it to be a fact that I’m being watched by undercover officers. However, I do know that this co-worker has always seemed very kind and honest, and I would never suspect him of lying.  It’s entirely possible that these men aren’t coming there to be keeping a watchful eye on me, although the evidence suggests little else, assuming that the account is all valid.

Whatever the case, the idea of being watched gives me the creeps…

277 days to go…