Mail-In Ballot Never Arrives
“Can I see you for a minute after you’re done there?” Richard Thompson called from his office door.
Juan stood and stretched his aching back, “I’ll be right there.” His crew was putting the finishing touches on a large spiral staircase. It lay in pieces on the shop floor, where it was being prepped for powder coating.
“That can wait!” Richard disappeared back into his office.
Juan came clomping in a few minutes later, aluminum flakes falling from his heavy work boots, “What’s going on?”
“This is.” Richard tossed an official-looking envelope across the cluttered desk as Juan took his usual seat.
Juan didn’t read it, he just glanced at the letterhead. “The Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company, what about it?”
“They’re not coming,” Richard crossed his arms and stared intently at the letter Juan was holding.
Juan was confused, “What do you mean they’re not coming? We’ve got contracts. We’ve already started working on their new plant.”
“I mean, they're not coming!” Richard shouted, “Read the damn letter. They’re delaying the project pending their review of how generous the US government is willing to be with incentives.”
Juan furrowed his brow as he scanned the legalese contained on the pages before him, but his mind was already running through the ramifications. The project is delayed, not canceled, he thought. TSMC was the world’s largest microchip manufacturing company. “We can start back up again next year, or maybe the year after?” he suggested.
Richard shook his head, “That will be too late.”
“Why?”
Richard turned away, “I’ve already paid for the new equipment. I took out loans, big ones, and there’s no way we can service the debt without the income from those contracts.”
Juan’s mind was racing now, “That’s not right. We should sue them!”
“Hell yeah I'm going to sue them," Richard said, but his words had no fire. “I'm afraid that will take more time than we’ve got. We’ve got to start planning for contingencies.”
Juan knew that by 'contingencies,' Richard was talking about layoffs. He'd brought Juan in to help make the cuts. “Ay, cabrón,” he muttered.
Richard was familiar with the vulgar word, which indicated a wicked person or bastard, but apparently missed the idea that Juan might have intended it for him. “You got that right! This is all Biden's fault. So much for 'Bidenomics' and his plans to boost American manufacturing. I pray the Senate votes to convict that worthless…”
Juan cut him off, “Are you trying to tell me that we’ve got to fire people because of something the President did?” He was incredulous.
Richard stared at him. “Yes,” he said at last. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. The guy’s a grifter and the head of a crime family that’s run this country into the ground …You weren’t planning on voting for him, were you?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Rob’s eyebrows went up, “But you’re registered, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Juan nodded, digging into the meal. “A guy came by my house a couple of months ago and signed us up. He said we were supposed to get our ballots in the mail, but I haven’t seen them yet.”
“A couple months ago?” Rob said, aghast. “That should only have been a couple of weeks. You better check on that.”
I’m not sure how to do that, Juan thought. It was strange to think how anything that happened so far away in Washington DC could have such an impact on him here.
What Does Juan Think Will Happen?
Choose Option 1: Senate Convicts Biden
Choose Option 2: Juan Will Lose His Job