“I’m a bounty hunter,” he told me, furtively looking around to make sure that no one could hear us. And probably with good reason.
In the 1990s I held a Security job in a chemical plant for several years, which was a pretty good gig. True, there were folks who let the job go to their heads - the sane among us were grateful every day that we weren’t issued firearms - but for the most part it was a stress free job.
And you got to meet some really, really interesting people - like the aforementioned “bounty hunter.”
I was in the break room one night, getting some of that world-famous vending machine coffee, when one of the folks who spent his nights polishing wheels came up and started up a conversation, perhaps recognizing in me a kindred spirit, a fellow crime fighter.
“I made some good money this this weekend,” he told me in a conspiratorial tone.
“Really?” I responded, not really caring all that much.
“Yeah.” the hirsute fellow said. “I turned in one of my friends for the reward.”
Then he added, in an even quieter voice, “Drugs.”
Now, even by the loose standards by which “Bounty Hunters” are held to in most states, I’m pretty sure that turning in a close friend to the cops doesn’t really qualify you as a bounty hunter.
It does make you a creep, though.
I turned to go, my gourmet vending machine coffee cooling rapidly, “Keep up the good work,” I said, one law enforcement professional to another.
He didn’t last very long at the job. I have always figured that either Dog the Bounty Hunter found a new intern, or - more likely - one of his “friends” caught up with him.
On the Air with Mark Warren
MARK WARREN is the guest on my show this week, discussing the world of gaming. The show can be seen online anytime at:
Quote of the Day
“At times it seems as if arranging to have no commitment of any kind to anyone would be a special freedom. But in fact the whole idea works in reverse. The most deadly commitment of all is to be committed only to one's self. Some come to realize this after they are in the nursing home.” ― John D. MacDonald, The Lonely Silver Rain