My main job was to drive people around. Someone would need a ride home while their car was being worked on, and I was the guy to give it to them. A couple months into the job, I was pretty used to the fact that I'd be driving the occasional druggie, but I never liked it. One day, a service writer called me to drive his customer home. I knew he was fucked up the second I saw him. His head twitched from person to person constantly and couldn't keep his attention on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. All I could do was grin and bear it. We loaded in the car and took off. I spent close to 30 minutes trying to talk to him and get directions, but he was so far gone he could barely keep up. His eyes darted everywhere and he seemed to drift into his own world every time I'd ask him where I was supposed to turn. I finally got him to his house and sped back to the job, mad that I had to deal with his worthless self. As I walked into the dealership, I looked for the service writer to complain that he made me drive him, and found him at his desk. I said "Damn, man. I hate driving people like that!" He looked at me with the most suprised face I've ever seen and said " What, deaf people?"
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