Nature vs. Nerdture

To say I work with a cast of characters would be the understatement of the year. I work at a library and needless to say, each day puts every episode of The Office to shame. Well, maybe not the UK version.

Anywho, one such coworker is the epitome of these characters: aviator glasses (not to be confused with the fratfully popular sunglass version, I think this pair changes color as he goes indoors), flood pants bordering on capris, and a debatable mullet.

In my youth (aka three years ago), several of my coworkers and I developed a borderline obsession with this man. How old was he? Do you think anyone had ever had the misfortune of kissing him? What does he do in his free time? This last question was our favorite point to ponder. We each had our own version. My tale of choice involved him going home to his mother's basement and staying up until 5 am, posting conspiracies on various forums. "The government is employing mind control through library books." "Aliens live in your belly button." Before going to sleep, he would search for vintage Pokemon cards on eBay and promptly crawl into a bed covered with pet hair of no less than 14 cats. Twelve of them would curl up with him.

Now that I am older and wiser, I can't help but realize that clearly this man has some sort of social anxiety. A combination of bad physical and emotional genes had given him the short end of the lifestyle stick. He was nice enough; creepy, but nice. I was a pretty awful person for my relentless teasing, as I was the proverbial ringleader.

Then my mind wandered to his hair: the semi mullet. Spiky on top, grazing his collar in the back. The embodiment of all that made me giggle behind his back. Were these naturally unfortunate cowlicks or did he actually pay somebody to do this to his head? Concluding that an entire head full of cowlicks is pretty much physically impossible,  I decided that to some degree, this was a choice.  

And I felt a little less bad.