Kip Mabuse
08-30-2020, 01:58 AM
Many years ago, I moved to the Deep South to get an advanced degree in English Literature. Didn't work out well, for various reasons that I won't go into here. There was a small, very shitty little convenience store within walking distance that was "always" hiring--so, with my only other prospects being trying to move back in with my parents (while in my mid-30's) and suicide, I went and got a job at the convenience store. You wouldn't think it would be hard to get hired at one, but they have this weird requirement about not hiring ex-cons of any sort--kind of narrows the job pool in Dixie, not only for blacks but for whites as well. I won't name the store other than to call it Boon Mart, but if anyone from the South/Gulf Coast region is reading, it was a subsidiary of the old Jitney Jungle (what a cool name for a grocery store in boonland) grocery chain. God, I hated that job--dealing with democrats was bad enough, but then having my former professors coming in to buy smokes--and just looking at me with all sorts of pity in their eyes. Sucked.
I came in during the day once a week to stock the soda and beer coolers and do inventory on the beer and cigarettes (I was the "night manager"). There was an old coon merchandiser/presalesman who worked for Coca Cola who came in on the days I had to stock. I think he wrote the orders--he sure as shit didn't stock any product--and he smelled like he'd bathed in cheap cologne every time he came in. Boss told me that he'd sneak into the beer coolers on all his stops and chug a beer or two (hence the foo-foo juice), but no one could catch him, or especially wanted to. Anyhow, there was no artificial light inside the soda cooler--you had to leave the cooler door open to be able to see what you were doing. Every week when that guy came in, he'd walk up to the soda cooler, look inside and make eye contact with me, and then shut the door on me. Instant darkness.
I would go open the door again, and the guy would be watching, with a big smirk on his face. It wasn't really a big deal, but--pissed me off, you know? I went up to the manager, who was/is a pretty good friend, and told him that I was tired of it. I knew about the guy sneaking beers, and I told the manager I'd be happy to catch him. He didn't want me to do it, didn't want the hassle, so I told him I was going to jack the guy up the next time he did it. Boss didn't tell me not to, but didn't encourage me, either. The next week, the bastard did it again. I opened the door, calmly walked over to him, and said (really politely, even though I was boiling) that I did not appreciate him shutting the door on me while I was in the cooler, as there were no lights, which he obviously knew. I asked him if he'd appreciate me doing that while he was writing his orders.
You wouldn't believe the shit that came out of his mouth. "You can't talk to me that way! I'm a man, same as you! You can't get away with that racist shit now, no sir! You ain't no better than me! I don't take that shit, no sir! I AM A MAN, SAME AS YOU!" And a bunch of other shit, he went on for five minutes, at least. I just looked at him (couldn't believe the shit he was spewing) and told him to go talk to the manager if he didn't like what I said, but that if he kept shutting the door on me, there would be trouble. He never did it again, at least. Thing is--he seemed genuinely shocked and angered at what I said to him, and I think he genuinely believed that I only did it because I was white and a racist.
I didn't care if the guy was a boon, I only cared that he was a dick. I can feel sympathy for some of the older darkies in the South--axe handles, firehoses and hounddogs probably figure in their nightmares, and PTSD is a real thing. Still, if you want to be treated like a white man, act like a white man.
I came in during the day once a week to stock the soda and beer coolers and do inventory on the beer and cigarettes (I was the "night manager"). There was an old coon merchandiser/presalesman who worked for Coca Cola who came in on the days I had to stock. I think he wrote the orders--he sure as shit didn't stock any product--and he smelled like he'd bathed in cheap cologne every time he came in. Boss told me that he'd sneak into the beer coolers on all his stops and chug a beer or two (hence the foo-foo juice), but no one could catch him, or especially wanted to. Anyhow, there was no artificial light inside the soda cooler--you had to leave the cooler door open to be able to see what you were doing. Every week when that guy came in, he'd walk up to the soda cooler, look inside and make eye contact with me, and then shut the door on me. Instant darkness.
I would go open the door again, and the guy would be watching, with a big smirk on his face. It wasn't really a big deal, but--pissed me off, you know? I went up to the manager, who was/is a pretty good friend, and told him that I was tired of it. I knew about the guy sneaking beers, and I told the manager I'd be happy to catch him. He didn't want me to do it, didn't want the hassle, so I told him I was going to jack the guy up the next time he did it. Boss didn't tell me not to, but didn't encourage me, either. The next week, the bastard did it again. I opened the door, calmly walked over to him, and said (really politely, even though I was boiling) that I did not appreciate him shutting the door on me while I was in the cooler, as there were no lights, which he obviously knew. I asked him if he'd appreciate me doing that while he was writing his orders.
You wouldn't believe the shit that came out of his mouth. "You can't talk to me that way! I'm a man, same as you! You can't get away with that racist shit now, no sir! You ain't no better than me! I don't take that shit, no sir! I AM A MAN, SAME AS YOU!" And a bunch of other shit, he went on for five minutes, at least. I just looked at him (couldn't believe the shit he was spewing) and told him to go talk to the manager if he didn't like what I said, but that if he kept shutting the door on me, there would be trouble. He never did it again, at least. Thing is--he seemed genuinely shocked and angered at what I said to him, and I think he genuinely believed that I only did it because I was white and a racist.
I didn't care if the guy was a boon, I only cared that he was a dick. I can feel sympathy for some of the older darkies in the South--axe handles, firehoses and hounddogs probably figure in their nightmares, and PTSD is a real thing. Still, if you want to be treated like a white man, act like a white man.