“You wanna know why?” Juan searched for a clean spot on the desk to set down his coffee cup. Failing that, he set it down on some older papers that didn’t look vital, “It’s because I don’t like what’s happening.”
“I don’t like the way things are changing either,” Richard made a show of removing the papers from beneath Juan’s cup, shaking them off, and then stacking them unceremoniously on top of another pile. “I don’t like that half the signs in this city are written in Spanish, and that I can’t order eggs at a restaurant without someone dumping hot sauce on them. But what’s bothering you?”
Juan leaned forward, resting his head in his hand with his elbow on the desk. He stared for a long moment at Richard, "I left Mexico when I was just a kid. Back then, I never used to think about politics or anything like that."
“Now you do?” Richard arched a skeptical eyebrow.
Chastened, Juan leaned back in his chair and assumed a more defensive posture, “Yeah, I think about politics. You think I don’t?”
"I just wonder why the whole Mexican Olympic Team feels the need to bring their failed system of government into my country." Richard's comment about the Olympic Team referred to an old joke the two men had shared. It meant that everyone who could run, jump, or swim had already crossed into the United States.
Juan ignored the barb but addressed the deeper issue. "That's what I'm talking about," he said. "I keep in touch with my family in Mexico. I go visit sometimes twice a year. I know how the politics works down there."
“Narco-state corruption,” Richard commented bitterly.
“Hey,” Juan countered, “you gringos are just as corrupt. The guy bringing all those charges against Trump isn’t Mexican.”
"Give it time," Richard raised the coffee pot, offering Juan a refill. "Before you know it, the Mexicans will be running things, and I'll have to learn to pick oranges."
The absurd idea nearly made Juan spit up his coffee, “You? Pick oranges?” He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Richard, even when you were young enough, you were too lazy. You’re the laziest man in this company.”
“I invite you to come and do these taxes anytime you want.” Richard sniped back.
Juan savored the friendly banter. He felt like he could speak candidly to this old, grumpy man. "I'm just sayin’ that I remember coming to America for a better life. Now that I’m a citizen, I want to keep it that way.”
Richard regarded Juan for a long moment, pursing his lips and contemplating. “Well, Mr. Juan Torres, American Citizen, just what are you going to about it?”
“I don’t know,” Juan admitted reluctantly. “What can I do?”