I hate black people in public places. When I’m in line at Subway and the 40 year old black woman demands a 4 inch sandwich when all they offer adults is a 6 inch or 12 inch, I’m reminded of this fact. Or when the group of teenage black kids enter the movie theater talking loudly and tossing around more “bros” than Keanu Reeves talking to Pauly Shore on the set of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, I’m reminded of this fact. Pretty much every time I leave the house and there are two or more black people gathered in the name of “coonery” I’m reminded of this fact. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a black man, that loves my people, but sometimes I want to disown some of you idiots.
What gets under my skin more than anything else is when black people expect every other race to be intimidated by us on GP. We’ve all seen it. White guy (or any other race) makes an insignificant to moderate mistake like accidentally drop a drink at a party after being bumped by someone dancing. Black guy acts like White guy (or any other race) just Delonte Wested his mom. More often than not, the recipient of the “assholiness” concedes, and moves on to avoid confrontation. Every once in a while you get a brave soul to challenge the assholiness, and after a quick demonstrative one sided exchange the recipient realizes they’ve bitten off more than they can chew, and back off to avoid further or impending verbal/physical beatdown. In some RARE circumstances when the planets and stars align you witness the recipient issue a silent victorious “checkmate” as I call it. A “checkmate” is when the recipient responds so perfectly, the assholiness is silenced, and rendered immobile. Last Friday I had the pleasure of witnessing the elusive “checkmate”.
It was pretty “Friday-y” as Fridays go. I was headed to work, and stopped by Walmart to grab a last minute gift for the surprise baby shower we were throwing for one of my co-workers. Since I don’t typically shop for showers, baby/bridal/or scattered, I headed to the Customer Service desk to see if my co-worker had registered. I’m second in line behind “Antoine Dodson”, and his ill-proportioned black female friend. And I don’t use “ill-proportioned” lightly. She was built like a tornado. She was built like a break-dancing teepee. She was built like a Bugle corn chip. She was built like a Tazmanian Devil. She was built like a fluffy Johnny Bravo… you get the point. There were three registers. One open, the line we were in, one where a younger Hispanic woman was clearly entering items that had been returned, into the system, and one empty register. As the cashier of our line diligently assisted “Antoine”, Taz with backfat spilling over her shorts, and under her shirt, was growing obviously impatient with how long things were taking with her friend. This “wedding cake stuffed into a shot glass on chopsticks” of a woman needed help as well and things were moving too slow for her tastes, and she decided to take matters into her own hands. So as not to be in WalMart the additional 180 seconds it would have taken the cashier of our line to finish up with Mr “Hide your Wife, Hide your kids”, Taz, who stood literally half a foot in front of the young Hispanic woman, points to her face, and asks the cashier of our line “Do, she speak Englush?!?” Nope, she didn’t ask the Hispanic woman herself. Nope, she didn’t ask a question and get no response. With her hand in the Hispanic woman’s face, she asked the cashier of our line, “Do she speak Englush?!”. The Hispanic woman, clearly offended, scoffs and replies in the worst accent she can muster, “No, me no speakuh English.” She then plops down what she’s working on, walks behind the cashier of our line to the third register, and looks at me and says, “Yes sir, how may I help you today?” Check, and, Mate. THAT ladies and gentlemen is how it’s done.
I work in retail. And there are days when it is painfully clear that people think I am nothing more than dirt beneath their feet. However this is clearly not the case. My job requires that I give quality customer service not be your fuckin’ servant. My job is to answer any questions you may have…