Today I found myself wondering about what would be one of the worst jobs of all time. There are of course some of the usual candidates that come up, such as flipping burgers at McDonald's, being a Wal-Mart greeter, or perhaps resident pooper scooper for the city parks.

But another job that I often fail to consider would be one that involves stake outs. How boring would it be to have to watch something constantly, waiting and waiting for something to happen.

Imagine telling someone what you do for a career. "Umm, I, uh, watch things." That would probably be the generic answer you would be forced to give, considering how much confidentiality would more than likely be involved.

You probably couldn't even tell your own mother what you do. And try to fathom what that would mean for a relationship. If nothing else spelled doom, this probably would. Don't believe me? Picture this conversation:

Man: "Well, I'm off to work, honey."
Woman: "Have a good day. What time will you be home?"
Man: "I have no idea."
Woman: "Well, will you be far?"
Man: "I'm afraid I can't answer that question."
Woman: "Well, how about a guess."
Man: "Um, your guess is as good as mine."
Woman: "You're awfully good at dodging questions."
Man: "Yeah, well, that's what I'm paid for."
Woman: "Well, enjoy the money. And the couch."

Or something to that effect. And I'm sure that, at the end of the day, there would be very little to report. "I sat in the car all day and stared at the world going by. Thrill city."

And of course, you can't have such a career and not having a yellow notepad to write down all your notes. The notes would be meant to be important, however boredom would most likely elicit strange doodles and random notes about cars you want to buy, and perhaps the alley cat that expertly caught that bird on the wall.

Yes indeed, it would be a glamorous career, to be sure. I have recently encountered someone in real life who does this. That's right, it's the Mysterious Mustache Man!

The next chapter of the story, as it turns out, is the final chapter. The Mysterious Mustache Man, in all his mustache and fuzzy sweater glory, is no longer visiting the area. His work is done.

So what was that whole business, you're asking yourself. The answer is that he was not stalking anyone, and so said creepy label has been removed. A certain neighbor in the area had been subpoenaed, or summoned by the courts, or something to that effect, and had ignored it. This is a big no-no.

The price you pay for this is the Mysterious Mustache Man paying you a visit, waiting at your house for days at a time in order to deliver you the message personally, and warn you that if you fail to comply, you'll find yourself in big, big trouble.

So look out, and next time you find that some random guy in a fuzzy sweater with a thick coffee mug and binoculars (thanks for the description, Dani!), looking exactly like a Mysterious Mustache Man should, you'll know what's going on.