Today on my way home from work I exited the school as usual, though due to extreme hunger thanks in part to having a ten forty lunch time, I headed for the Taco Bell. For some reason, the staff at the Taco Bell is always way polite. much more polite than one might expect or deem necessary to handle my three soft shell tacos and wild cherry Pepsi but it is what it is. Today's server greeted me and asked how I was, to which i responded "well, and yourself?" he said he was doing just fine. The depressing part is that as I drove around, he opened the window to tell me the amount, and like an idiot I hesitated. He was a man almost as old as my father. His cheeks had the puffed out look of too many nights tossing and turning worried about money, and his hair was pushed back on his head due to the visor he was wearing. he wore glasses and looked like he had shaved earlier that day, but after long hours the stubble was fighting its way to the surface. In the split second it took for me to take all of this in, I made eye contact, and then looked away, handing him my debit card. It felt like I should have said something after such a pleasant greeting, but honestly, I didn't expect to pull around and be greeted by a man of his age. I know it's egocentric of me to imagine the entire world sits on edge awaiting my approval, but I couldn't help but think that my surprise was visible and it came as a blow to him working in a taco bell polo and visor, sweating in a boot with a headset on that smelled like cinnamon and refried beans. Was it a recent lay-off at a job he thought would be a life-time career that earned this man a spot "in the hole"? Was it a monstrously bad decision that wound him up serving beans and cheese and swiping plastic cards? Who knows? Nevertheless, it was very depressing.  These thoughts  drifted through my mind as I drove the forty-five mile commute back home.  By the time I pulled in the driveway the sun had already set and the chill of the February night had begun.  Taco wrappers littered the floor on the passenger side of my front seat.  I left them there.  I don't remember even tasting them as I stared at the road.  The next morning, the cherry Pepsi was frozen in the Taco Bell cup as I started my car and drove to work.