Dumpster-Dancer

Dressed in asphalt spattered long sleeved protective gear, hat and boots, I headed out into the early morning dark in my heavily laden construction truck.

I barely noticed the black shadow on the side of the deserted, dark, highway on the edge of a tiny town. Whizzing past I saw a thumb out. Despite the fact that the passenger seat of my truck was buried in tools, I figured that the 4AM traveler could ride in back or something, so I got stopped and backed up. The thumb turned out to be attached to a magnificently pregnant woman, not someone I'd put in the back of an open pick-up.

She watched me dig hammers, trowels, lines, wrenches, safety gear, lunch box, water jugs and the other construction related stuff off the seat. By the time I was done, there was a solid wall of stuff between driver and passenger seat that reached almost to the ceiling.

She had to be at the hospital by 8AM. I would be working right across the street from the hospital. I pointed to the big empty drums in bed of the truck and explained that I'd needed to stop at the asphalt plant to have them filled but that we'd still be there in plenty of time for her appointment. I mentioned that there would be a clean restroom, coffee and snacks in the waiting area while the drums were filled.

As she climbed in she asked “are you safe?” Rule Number One in the USDA Official Handbook for Rapists and Murderers says: “Tell lies to your victim to get her into your vehicle.”

Astounded by the stupidity of her question, I replied “Anybody who is not safe is going to say they are. You can't trust the answer to that question. Use your own best judgment based on the what you see.” In a flash she was out of my truck with her thumb out for the next passing car. I wondered what on earth I could look like other than a construction worker on his way to the asphalt plant.

The fact is, I probably am pretty safe. I can't imagine wanting to harm a pregnant woman, or any woman for that matter. My answer was honest if not verbally reassuring.

In business, I have a little trick I like to use. I flat out ask people how honest they are. Honest people generally say something like “well, I try to tell the truth,” or “I'm generally pretty honest.” One time I had a guy tell me “I am impeccably honest. I never tell a lie.” He was a liar!

I got thrown off a jury once. I had, by chance, seen the defendant talking and acting like a belligerent punk when he thought no one could see. I was mildly concerned that I might have been biased by what I saw, so out of an abundance of caution I told the judge. In private meeting away from the other potential jurors the judge asked me if I would promise to be fair. I said that no one can absolutely promise to fair since we all have some biases, but that I'd certainly do my best to be fair. That wasn't good enough for the judge. He wanted a guarantee that no human can honestly make.

Why is it that we'd sooner trust the comforting falsehood than the more ambiguous truth?