Isn’t Really Selling Their Innocence

(I’ve been searching for a job for a while and have gotten hired at a place that does at-home presentations. It’s my first day, and I’m paired with one of the senior trainers who’s been told to take me around his assigned territory.)

Trainer: “So, just to let you know, I got a DUI last week, so forgive me that I have to do the stupid breathalyzer thing every time I start my car up.”

(We get into his car, which is overloaded with trash, and the trainer grumbles about how it wasn’t his fault, his friend spiked his drinks, the police were bullying him, and so on, as he blows into the ignition interlock that’s been fitted. I try to ignore this, telling myself I need this job, I’m a good salesman, and once I get the gist of this I can drive my own car from place to place. For most of the day, the trainer just runs me through the gauntlet of what to say for each presentation, how we receive calls from potential customers, the sheets we have to fill out for each house we visit, etc. Every so often he brings up again how he’s not to blame for the DUI, and curses the police whenever he has to blow into the ignition interlock; however, things don’t go south until later in the afternoon, when the trainer suddenly stops in the middle of telling me something and looks at his rear-view mirror.)

Trainer: “D*** it! No, please, not now!”

(I look behind us and notice a cop car with their lights flashing. The trainer keeps cursing as he pulls over and turns to me.)

Trainer: “Okay, look. I need you to do me a favor. Tell the officer this is your car and you’re just letting me drive it!”

Me: “What?”

Trainer: “I have expired license plates! I can’t let that be added to my record, too!”

Me: “Wait, what about your registration?”

Trainer: “It’s expired, too! So is my license! Look, just tell this guy it’s your car! I’m begging you!”

Me: “I can’t do that!”

Trainer: “You don’t understand! I can’t go back to jail again!”

(The cop knocks on the window.)

Trainer: “Remember, this is your car!”

(He rolls the window down and repeats the same thing he just told me. The cop looks at me questioningly.)

Me: “This isn’t my car.”

(The trainer ended up being arrested on the spot, because his expired license meant he shouldn’t have been on the road at all. The cop let me go after confirming my identity and my statement that I did not own the car, and I ended up having to catch the bus back to the office, since I’d left my own vehicle there. I quit that job shortly after.)