Last week I delivered a car to a man in South Carolina. He called me every half hour on my trip there, asking how far I had gotten, what mile marker I was passing, etc. He had a whole lot of questions, and frankly I felt relieved when I pulled into his driveway to drop off the car so the endless phone calls could end.
I walked up to the front door, and could hear shouting clearly coming from inside the house. As I reached up to knock on the door, it quickly flew open. "Mr. Davidson?" I asked.
"Yes, that's me."
His wife aggressively pushed her way next to him and poked her head out the door. "And Mrs. Davidson too, if you don't mind."
"Hello to you both. I'm Bill Thomas, your friendly driver."
"You got here just in time, Bill," he said to me. "We need you to help us."
I shrugged. "Sure I will, if I can."
"This stupid woman I call my wife says that we should all vote for Donald Trump."
His wife nodded and jerked her thumb at her husband. "And this lunkhead thinks we should vote for Hillary Clinton. Can you imagine?"
I held up a hand in a cautionary fashion. "My grandfather always taught me to avoid political discussions."
Mrs. Davidson grunted. "He was probably a crooked Democrat."
Her husband put his hands on his hips. "So now all Democrats are crooked?"
"What do you mean SO NOW? They've always been a bunch of conniving reprobates."
"What about Republicans?"
"What about us?" she asked.
"Exactly!" he spat.
I held up the paperwork. "Mr. Davidson, if you could just sign here for the car."
"Not until I get your opinion."
"I have none."
This angered the wife further. "Oh you have no opinion. You are just one of those uninformed, blissfully ignorant morons who get spoon fed by the drive by media and accept whatever you are told as fact."
Her husband shook his head sadly. "He didn't say any of that."
She pointed a finger at her husband. "He didn't have to. I know him and his kind. He doesn't care who becomes our next President."
I had to speak up. "I do care. But at this point we still don't know who will be the candidates on each side."
Mr. Davidson looked upset and disappointed. "Well now you're just talking nonsense. It's going to be Trump vs. Hillary."
"And then Mr. Trump will win," added his wife triumphantly.
"And I will move to Canada."
"You'll be moving there alone."
"Fine by me, you vicious shrew," he said with feeling.
"How dare you call your wife such a thing."
"Just stating the facts, missy. At least someone in this house believes in women's rights, and that a woman should be in the White House."
"Yes, she was in there once before, but she couldn't make her own husband behave. How do you think she's going to make America behave?"
"Behave?" he asked.
I slid the pen carefully into his hand and put the paperwork in a position for him to sign. I was amazed at how he automatically signed without seeming to notice he was doing so.
Mrs. Davidson puffed up. "He's going to build a wall. He's going to make America great again!"
"Great for who?" he demanded.
"Thanks folks, hope you enjoy the car." I handed him a copy of the paperwork and started to leave.
"Where do you think you're going?" his wife asked me.
"You didn't answer our question yet," added her husband.
"And I never will. I'm one of those guys who still believes in a secret vote, private balloting, that sort of thing."
She looked at me and scoffed. "He's a commie, don't pay him any attention."
Her husband nodded and gave me a bitter glare. "I'm going to call your company and say that you were rude and uncooperative."
I walked down the driveway carrying my bag and waved. Sometimes you just can't please people.
