Stephen Yeargin

My morning routines often start out the exact same way. I head out the door of our apartment, down the stairs and across the parking lot to my car. It is usually by this point that I remember something that I should have grabbed (like something for lunch) and debate whether to go back up and get it. Typically I do not. I get in the car, start it, grab my gloves and scrape away any frost that is blocking the windshield. I then begin my trek to work, deciding between the two convenience stores on my way at which to stop.

Yesterday morning, I walked into one of the stores, grabbed my coke, a cinnamon roll and a pack of gum. As I placed my purchases on the counter to retrieve my wallet, the cashier stopped briefly and looked over at me.

“Are you a teacher?,” she said. I replied that I was not. “You just look like a teacher,” she continued. “I tell them all the time that I think that guy who comes in here is a teacher.” I tell her that I work in marketing for a wholesale distributor just up the road. “Oh, well have a great weekend!” she says. “You too.”

I collect my things and head back to my car. I sit there for a moment, pondering exactly what it is that would label me as the teacher-type. I was wearing a button-up under a sweater with slacks because I had a meeting early that morning, but nothing else I could think of would give me away as a teacher. I continued on to work, wondering to what other conclusions the store clerks had arrived. For that matter, what about the other people we meet in our day-to-day routines? It is intriguing to wonder what you are saying about yourself without ever saying a word.