Today just C and I are in the office. He tells me, "We have a new printer." "Really," I ask, "After all of the work I did cleaning off the glass over the scanning element to remove the lines on the copy last week?" He nods. "It's white," I note. He says, "The old one black for Obama. This one white for Trump." "Let's call the printer Trump," I say, followed up as always by raucous laughter.

The next concerns Dindu car insurance concerns. A young one, with half of her chest out and not worried about such advertising comes back a second time today to empty the car she has had towed here of personal belongings. Evidently it's going to take a second trip, and evidently C would rather she didn't hang around too much. She also wants to get her tags off but needs help (never seen her dad use a screwdriver, I guess), so mentions it a second time. C tells her he'll take care of it for her and she can come back for them tomorrow. Out of that she acts as if she is grateful that he will remove her things from the car besides remove the tags. Wow, what a leap, I think, that was nowhere insinuated in the language. He has to make sure she understands tags only, not all of her crap.

A rather surly insurance adjuster, middle-aged, female, smoker who has clearly had enough of her work, comes, sprinkles her holy water, speaks the blessing, and pronounces the car totaled. Dindu girl comes back, gets tags, leaves sing-songing about how she gets a new car now. Two hours later, she calls to see if she can come get the totaled car now. C has to explain to her that it's not driveable and she cannot. How in Odin's name did she have the accident, empty her car a few times, and not notice that the tire was completely flattened with the rim on the ground when she was the driver of the car??

Then there's another Dindu, young male around the 30-year mark. He's well oiled with the smile of a cobra. He has come in again to ask about a longish list of repairs needed to pass the car for inspection. Money is a consideration. How much for this repair versus that? Both times, no repair is made, because evidently any amount is too much. When he steps out, I ask C if he gets a bad feeling from the guy. "This is bad person he tells me," shaking his head. That is when he clarifies for me that the two visits have been the same, and the Dindu male is charged a lift fee for putting the car up and checking it.

This reeks to me. I ask C if he has any contact info for him and egg him on to take a pic of the car with license plate as it drives out of the lot. I show him a pic I took of some Dindus I probably interrupted doing a reconnaissance for the feasibility of robbing a neighbor's house, telling him I really should get the info to the police but haven't had a chance yet.

Last customers of my day are a newly-wed couple. She was pretty, foreign, and looked to be about 25 years younger than the man, who looked old enough that I wouldn't want him, and I am much closer to him in age. He was pretty much glued to her—wherever she went, he went, and we heard him talk about how today's errand was much easier than their time at immigration. When they left, I ask C,"He's got to be at least 25 years older than she is, what do you think she sees in him?" "Green card," he answers, matter of factly. I hoot, "Can you imagine... I trail off. He says, "In two years..." (imitates a woman victoriously simpering off with a purse in the crook of her arm, wrist wagging as she walks). You know, while I didn't say this to C, if blood still courses through the veins of this ugly anglo bastard and she keeps her eyes closed, he may have a chance.