The Recon

I had a pretty lousy day to be honest and wanted to avoid getting back to the apartment for as long as possible. I knew that once home there would be chores waiting everywhere I looked, and I couldn't take that. Not that day. So I did what every first-rate loser would do and headed into one of the bars on the way home. It was a Tuesday, it was January, and the way to recession was paved with inflation, so the place was almost empty. That made the loud three men who clearly were several beers into the evening stand out even more. No way the bartender would cut them off though.

As I went to buy my beer one of the guys from the group got up next to me to buy the guys another round. He slapped me inappropriately hard on the shoulder and asked how my day was. I guess fatigue from the last couple of days had taken its toll, and answered him truthfully "like shit". Without skipping a beat he told me to join them. I really didn't feel like actually socializing, but I also didn't feel like saying no, so once we'd gotten our beers I helped him carry the fresh pours to the table.

All three of them were marines traveling through town, with a fourth one back at the motel stuck in a video call or something. After some travel memories, high school stories, and a discussion on action movies from the 90's, the guy I met at the bar, Williams, asked me about my shitty day. I went through my customer horror story of the day, and some past ones to highlight why I hated my job. That got sidetracked a while into a who had it worse competition that often touched on basic training.

Williams then got serious, or at least drunken serious, and told me it all came down to personal outlook and self-discipline. The others joined in with suggestions for self-improvement, most of them not applicable or decidedly not helpful. "Get a haircut and a job," one of them said jokingly before leaving for his turn to buy a round. "That's not a bad idea," Williams said. "How about we give you a new haircut and you can use that as a starting point for a new you?" he continued. "It always felt like you became someone different in basic training, and you could see it every time you looked in a mirror."

I was drunk too at this point, but still a bit hesitant. Why though? Maybe because I was holding on too tight to something that I really didn't want. "You do that, and I buy you shots," said Ramirez. I relented and soon after there were a dangerous amount of shot glasses in front of me.

The rest of the details are a bit fuzzy. At some point we stepped out to the parking lot and someone else, the fourth guy from the motel I guess, drove up in a big truck. Someone must have texted him because he had clippers and stuff with him. I can't really recall what happened but I woke up at home in bed, surrounded by chores with yesterday's clothes sprinkled on top. My head was throbbing in pain from too many shots, and when I touched it I felt naked skin where there used to be hair. Clumsily I went to the bathroom to see what the damage was and get a glass of water. The sight in the mirror was striking. I looked nothing like me. Well, obviously it was still me with a new haircut, but it oozed a completely different energy than before. Confident. Responsive. Perhaps I should follow some of the suggestions they had.