There are days when things are good and there are days when things are bad. There are also days when you go on a massive power trip and it is so gratifying on so many different levels.
This was one of those days.
The lunch rush had passed and I was idling away at the cash register. It was another Monday, another slow day. It was mildly sad on some levels and just entirely mind numbing on others. The restaurant stood empty and quiet. A truck drove past the window and turned in towards our parking lot.
The door opened and a customer walked in. He wore a yellow jacket, denoting his work with water services along with sunglasses masking his eyes. He looked around and turned to me.
"What kind of restaurant is this?" He inquired.
"It's a barbecue place." I replied mildly, automatically initiating a routine that I was so used to. He glanced around and at me.
"What do YOU know about barbecue?" He said, a tinge of accusation in his voice.
"...Excuse me?" I was slightly confused, my brow furrowed as I broke out of my routine.
"What do YOU know about barbecue?" Again, he asked me, his tone betraying a sense of disbelief and confrontation.
I appraised his body language, noting the folding arms across the chest as well as the almost sneering manner of speech. Essentially, I was being judged. I normally deal with my fair share of crap but I believe this was the first time someone actually had questioned our purpose of even bothering to exist, as if intending to stir up trouble That alone told me all I need to know about the type of person I was dealing with. I gathered my wits about me and looked at him straight in the eye.
"You can leave...if you want..."
"What was that..." He said, the first sign of mild doubt and confusion appearing on his face.
I smiled at him and gave him my death stare from hell, boring past the dark sunglasses shield his eyes and underneath the blackness of his skin, straight through the parietal lobe and back out the window.
"You can leave...if you want. The door's right there." I motioned to the door, whilst smiling politely.
"Fine, I'll leave." He stared and walked out the door, all the while muttering something that was most likely incoherent and irrelevant. As the door closed, I settled back into a chair, mildly confused and shocked at what I had done before I was overwhelming with a feeling in the pit of my stomach which I can describe simply as euphoric. That was expected since I just pretty much had a massive power trip on so many levels which was unexpectedly satisfying.
As far as my treatment of him goes, I'd say he deserves it. After all, getting insulted is below my pay grade.
Showing posts with label stereotypes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stereotypes. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Tales from the Pit - Quote of the Day
A single, lone fat truck driver walked in in the early evening.
"Hi, how can I help you?"
"I'll take the beef plate and an iced tea."
"Okay. That'll be $11.41. GET ME A NUMBER ONE!"
"Oh, can I change that? I want a two-meat plate with sausage and beef."
"...Okay. MAKE THAT FIVE! SAUSAGE AND BEEF!"
"Sorry about that. I make my decisions like a woman. I change my mind a lot."
"Fascinating. I don't think most woman change their minds..."
"They have a hard time making up their minds, right? Am I right?"
"...I'm not inclined to comment."
"Hahaha. Are you married?"
"...What?!"
"WERE you married?"
"No...I haven't made a mistake yet...how old do you think I am?"
"I don't know, like 30...?"
"...30?!"
I'm not sure what's worse: the misogyny or the fact that I look like I'm frickin' THIRTY!
"Hi, how can I help you?"
"I'll take the beef plate and an iced tea."
"Okay. That'll be $11.41. GET ME A NUMBER ONE!"
"Oh, can I change that? I want a two-meat plate with sausage and beef."
"...Okay. MAKE THAT FIVE! SAUSAGE AND BEEF!"
"Sorry about that. I make my decisions like a woman. I change my mind a lot."
"Fascinating. I don't think most woman change their minds..."
"They have a hard time making up their minds, right? Am I right?"
"...I'm not inclined to comment."
"Hahaha. Are you married?"
"...What?!"
"WERE you married?"
"No...I haven't made a mistake yet...how old do you think I am?"
"I don't know, like 30...?"
"...30?!"
I'm not sure what's worse: the misogyny or the fact that I look like I'm frickin' THIRTY!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tales from the Pit - The Things People Say: Part I
Here's the beginning list of things that people say which I love to hear. By which I mean I detest with an absolute loathing passion of hellish rage and ridiculous fury. I seem to have misplaced my medication so my anger is currently unchecked, motherfuckers.
#1: ASKING FOR ITEMS WE DO NOT HAVE / ARE YOU MENTALLY RETARDED?
Two customers recently finished eating their meals and came up to me for refills on their drinks. They were two men, one being old white man and and his middle-aged white friend. As I handed them back their drinks, the old man leaned on his cane and said to me:
"So, when are you guys going to have ham?"
"Well, sir. We had ham for awhile but it took too long to get rid of and we had to throw it away at the end."
I inwardly sighed, recalling this debacle. Somehow, it took us 3-4 weeks to get rid of a leg of ham, proving that our investment in it was ill-advised at the time and ridiculous. I get 3-4 requests for ham a week on average. Now couple that with the fact that we serve several hundred customers a week. I think the point's been made but I digress.
"Really now? How long did it take?"
"About 3-4 weeks."
"Well...until you get ham, I won't be coming back. When you do get ham, put a sign up"
I stared at him, my mouth slightly open about to retort with something in regards to his mother and a quick death but luckily, prudence caught me instead.
"Eh, don't worry. I'll be back." His companion remarked, rolling his eyes slightly at the old man's outburst. They both left the restaurant, the old man plodding along.
VERDICT: Old people love ham. It seems their taste buds are so degraded that it's all they can taste. And seriously, fuck ham.
***
I was sitting at the register and reading a book when a customer came in. As I glanced up, I noticed he was a new one. Medium height, small build, and black, he looked at our menu for several minutes and glanced around the restaurant. I stood at the register and waited for him to ask for his order. However, after two minutes, I grew tired and impatient.
"Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
Surprised, he mumbled "Y'all don't have any friedkrandeens?"
"...What?"
"Y'all don't have any fried okra and greens?"
"Nooo..." I replied, somewhat surprised at the question.
"Oh, okay, it's cool. Thanks." He left quicker than when he had come in.
VERDICT: Fried okra and greens? There's a reason stereotypes exist.
#1: ASKING FOR ITEMS WE DO NOT HAVE / ARE YOU MENTALLY RETARDED?
Two customers recently finished eating their meals and came up to me for refills on their drinks. They were two men, one being old white man and and his middle-aged white friend. As I handed them back their drinks, the old man leaned on his cane and said to me:
"So, when are you guys going to have ham?"
"Well, sir. We had ham for awhile but it took too long to get rid of and we had to throw it away at the end."
I inwardly sighed, recalling this debacle. Somehow, it took us 3-4 weeks to get rid of a leg of ham, proving that our investment in it was ill-advised at the time and ridiculous. I get 3-4 requests for ham a week on average. Now couple that with the fact that we serve several hundred customers a week. I think the point's been made but I digress.
"Really now? How long did it take?"
"About 3-4 weeks."
"Well...until you get ham, I won't be coming back. When you do get ham, put a sign up"
I stared at him, my mouth slightly open about to retort with something in regards to his mother and a quick death but luckily, prudence caught me instead.
"Eh, don't worry. I'll be back." His companion remarked, rolling his eyes slightly at the old man's outburst. They both left the restaurant, the old man plodding along.
VERDICT: Old people love ham. It seems their taste buds are so degraded that it's all they can taste. And seriously, fuck ham.
***
I was sitting at the register and reading a book when a customer came in. As I glanced up, I noticed he was a new one. Medium height, small build, and black, he looked at our menu for several minutes and glanced around the restaurant. I stood at the register and waited for him to ask for his order. However, after two minutes, I grew tired and impatient.
"Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
Surprised, he mumbled "Y'all don't have any friedkrandeens?"
"...What?"
"Y'all don't have any fried okra and greens?"
"Nooo..." I replied, somewhat surprised at the question.
"Oh, okay, it's cool. Thanks." He left quicker than when he had come in.
VERDICT: Fried okra and greens? There's a reason stereotypes exist.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Tales From The Pit - What Your Drink Says About You
At the restaurant, we currently dispense Pepsi products to our customers. As such, we really have 8 options to choose from and given from what I observe, there are certain unique traits that people who order the drinks tend to have. I conducted the following research strictly at work, while operating machinery, or completely and totally driven to the edge of mental insanity. The sample is very large and the margin of error is ridiculously larger. So if you see your favorite drink lampooned below or get offended, spare me the hate mail. I already get enough Viagra spam and junk mail as it is.
Pepsi
You are a normal, everyday customer who understands the superiority of Pepsi lies in its sugary sweetness of absurd amounts of high fructose corn syrup mixed with a excessive cola and caffeine. It knows no racial or religious bounds! You may also hate the fact that we don't have Coke products and take one anyway. It's like eating your mom's meatloaf since it's all she makes or actually making conversation with your girlfriend because she took away your remote for the flatscreen and cut off your Internet. Likelihood of diabetes: LIKE YES! TOTALLY!
Diet Pepsi
You are likely suffering tooth problems due to excessive sugar intake as well as the onset of diabetes type 2. Besides, some idiot decided to do that tooth in Coca-Cola experiment with you and scar you for life. You're also aiming to lose weight and slim down enough to fit into the pants you have right now. Of course, that's kinda pointless if ALL you drink is nothing but Diet Pepsi all the time. Personally, you may like the taste of it and wonder why all drinks shouldn't be so good as Diet Pepsi. You might as well ask why your bitch of a coworker decided to rat on your affair with the head of marketing to your husband. Because face it, life is rough so Diet Pepsi can take you only so far. To the doctor's office or court anyway.
Sierra Mist
You want to be different. So that's why you totally gun in for the Sierra Mist when we don't have Sprite. Caffeine free and a lemon-lime flavor, Sierra Mist represents the potential of what a good soda could be only to have it neutered in more ways than one because 7UP is so much better. You prefer the lemon-lime flavor since it's a lot less likely to cause you to become an addict. You may work long hours and have a terrible job but you know in the end, things will just work out. As long as your bosses don't know you're using the company credit card to pay for a $7 meal, you're fine. Way to be a rebel.
Tropicana Pink Lemonade
You love to be fruity, don't you? The pink lemonade lacks caffeine and is simple pink lemonade with all-natural flavors and ingredients. Or so it says on the label anyway. You dislike soda and sometimes wish restaurants would stock Hi-C or fruit punch but there's just something about having a cup of pink lemonade on a day when it's 25 degrees outside with a heavy snowstorm. That something is called being out of your mind. Proportionally, more black people get this drink than white people. But then again, it's crazy to think that drinks are influenced by race.
Orange Crush
Black people LOVE this drink (Disregard the above). Hands down, you enjoy the bite of the orange syrup mixed with a tank of CO2 gas when it hits your tongue. You may likely harass the employees with snide remarks or ridiculous questions simply because you are an unqualified prick. You are addicted to the absurd amounts of caffeine and corn syrup in this drink and enjoy buying it every time you come in. Because let's face it, how many places serve Orange Crush and cause the management to threaten to call the police if you keep harassing them about being Asian?
Diet Dr. Pepper
You always keep an eye out for something new and different. Naturally, you gravitate towards Diet Dr. Pepper since it's like Dr. Pepper. Except not in any way. I personally think Diet Dr. Pepper tastes like flat Dr. Pepper only much more terrible in every way. Anyway, you tend to be reasonably well-dressed and have no problems paying with your credit card since you likely spent your cash on that hooker during your conference or going out with the girls to a bar that serves $20 cocktails. You work hard and get your hands dirty but the self-immolating work mentality of your profession prevents you from treating yourself and instead consume something that I feel is the castor oil of soda.
Dr. Pepper
You know what you like. Boring. Predictable. The missionary position of soda. You know what you generally want in life and go for it. One day it may just be a small gumbo or a sandwich, the next day it could be simply hotwiring your neighbor's car and running it into a telephone pole just to freak him out. You can make your mark in a crowd or blend in like a chameleon just out of self-preservation. Your job may take you across many miles but Dr. Pepper is always a constant with you on the road. Along with a .9 mm Beretta for scaring off illegal immigrants you think you see everywhere. You're not afraid of much, including the police. So be free. Or you may end up in jail. Again.
Mountain Dew
I've ONLY had WHITE PEOPLE buy this. Period. You enjoy the strange taste of Mountain and are prone to being somewhat hyperactive and overjoyed when you receive your Mountain Dew. You may also tend to be extreme in your appetite, either ordering enough for a small family to feed yourself or order enough for yourself only to not feed a small family. You are not afraid to try something new and generally have enjoyed taking risks to the extreme, perfectly fitting in with the marketing image of Mountain Dew and EXTREME SPORTS! Unfortunately, you may not drink enough to rationalize any restaurants to order more Mountain Dew for at least two months, which really is your own fault for not embracing the inner Dew. Life for you is A-ok, minus the fact that you got conned into taking out a sub-prime loan. Sorry about that.
Pepsi
You are a normal, everyday customer who understands the superiority of Pepsi lies in its sugary sweetness of absurd amounts of high fructose corn syrup mixed with a excessive cola and caffeine. It knows no racial or religious bounds! You may also hate the fact that we don't have Coke products and take one anyway. It's like eating your mom's meatloaf since it's all she makes or actually making conversation with your girlfriend because she took away your remote for the flatscreen and cut off your Internet. Likelihood of diabetes: LIKE YES! TOTALLY!
Diet Pepsi
You are likely suffering tooth problems due to excessive sugar intake as well as the onset of diabetes type 2. Besides, some idiot decided to do that tooth in Coca-Cola experiment with you and scar you for life. You're also aiming to lose weight and slim down enough to fit into the pants you have right now. Of course, that's kinda pointless if ALL you drink is nothing but Diet Pepsi all the time. Personally, you may like the taste of it and wonder why all drinks shouldn't be so good as Diet Pepsi. You might as well ask why your bitch of a coworker decided to rat on your affair with the head of marketing to your husband. Because face it, life is rough so Diet Pepsi can take you only so far. To the doctor's office or court anyway.
Sierra Mist
You want to be different. So that's why you totally gun in for the Sierra Mist when we don't have Sprite. Caffeine free and a lemon-lime flavor, Sierra Mist represents the potential of what a good soda could be only to have it neutered in more ways than one because 7UP is so much better. You prefer the lemon-lime flavor since it's a lot less likely to cause you to become an addict. You may work long hours and have a terrible job but you know in the end, things will just work out. As long as your bosses don't know you're using the company credit card to pay for a $7 meal, you're fine. Way to be a rebel.
Tropicana Pink Lemonade
You love to be fruity, don't you? The pink lemonade lacks caffeine and is simple pink lemonade with all-natural flavors and ingredients. Or so it says on the label anyway. You dislike soda and sometimes wish restaurants would stock Hi-C or fruit punch but there's just something about having a cup of pink lemonade on a day when it's 25 degrees outside with a heavy snowstorm. That something is called being out of your mind. Proportionally, more black people get this drink than white people. But then again, it's crazy to think that drinks are influenced by race.
Orange Crush
Black people LOVE this drink (Disregard the above). Hands down, you enjoy the bite of the orange syrup mixed with a tank of CO2 gas when it hits your tongue. You may likely harass the employees with snide remarks or ridiculous questions simply because you are an unqualified prick. You are addicted to the absurd amounts of caffeine and corn syrup in this drink and enjoy buying it every time you come in. Because let's face it, how many places serve Orange Crush and cause the management to threaten to call the police if you keep harassing them about being Asian?
Diet Dr. Pepper
You always keep an eye out for something new and different. Naturally, you gravitate towards Diet Dr. Pepper since it's like Dr. Pepper. Except not in any way. I personally think Diet Dr. Pepper tastes like flat Dr. Pepper only much more terrible in every way. Anyway, you tend to be reasonably well-dressed and have no problems paying with your credit card since you likely spent your cash on that hooker during your conference or going out with the girls to a bar that serves $20 cocktails. You work hard and get your hands dirty but the self-immolating work mentality of your profession prevents you from treating yourself and instead consume something that I feel is the castor oil of soda.
Dr. Pepper
You know what you like. Boring. Predictable. The missionary position of soda. You know what you generally want in life and go for it. One day it may just be a small gumbo or a sandwich, the next day it could be simply hotwiring your neighbor's car and running it into a telephone pole just to freak him out. You can make your mark in a crowd or blend in like a chameleon just out of self-preservation. Your job may take you across many miles but Dr. Pepper is always a constant with you on the road. Along with a .9 mm Beretta for scaring off illegal immigrants you think you see everywhere. You're not afraid of much, including the police. So be free. Or you may end up in jail. Again.
Mountain Dew
I've ONLY had WHITE PEOPLE buy this. Period. You enjoy the strange taste of Mountain and are prone to being somewhat hyperactive and overjoyed when you receive your Mountain Dew. You may also tend to be extreme in your appetite, either ordering enough for a small family to feed yourself or order enough for yourself only to not feed a small family. You are not afraid to try something new and generally have enjoyed taking risks to the extreme, perfectly fitting in with the marketing image of Mountain Dew and EXTREME SPORTS! Unfortunately, you may not drink enough to rationalize any restaurants to order more Mountain Dew for at least two months, which really is your own fault for not embracing the inner Dew. Life for you is A-ok, minus the fact that you got conned into taking out a sub-prime loan. Sorry about that.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tales From The Pit - Reverse Roles
This would end up being one of the more memorable twists in race relations during my job. Some weeks ago in the middle of winter, the following events occurred:
We were in the nearing the end of the lunch rush, weeks before Christmas. The restaurant was slowly emptying but there were still some customers in line. I was running an order back and returned to my post as several new customers came in.
There were three of them, bundled up in their winter gear. Judging from their overalls and the boots, I determined that they were from the power plant and had just emerged from some maintenance work. When they removed their hoods and scarves, I saw that there were two black men and a black woman.
They scanned our menu, their eyes quickly darting back and forth. The woman stepped forward from the group and placed her order. A coworker wrote it down and yelled out the drink order to me as I started to fill the cup with ice. As I gave the woman her drink while she waited for her order, one of the men started to speak.
"You know, this is like a comedy show..." He remarked to his coworker, chuckling slightly.
"How so?" His companion replied, his attention focused on our menu.
"Well," The man started to explain, "You got a bunch of Asians making barbecue and serving it to us...I mean, am I right?" He looked at me, upon finishing his remarks.
I stared at him and I turned to look at my cousin, whose mouth was slightly open and his eyes wide in shock and confusion. The black woman stared back and forth at her coworker, unsure whether to apologize or to even say anything.
My cousin and I stared at the man for a few more seconds, oblivious to the pandemonium unfolding around us. We started to laugh and the black men started to join in. Internally, we were rather annoyed and mildly offended. Luckily, before any drastic occurred, we were handed their carryout orders. We dispensed them to the men and the woman and bade them good day. The woman gave us a slightly bemused glance as she left with her companions.
Afterwards, my cousin grabbed my arm and turned to me. In a quiet whisper he asked me, "Is it just me or was that kinda racist?"
I paused for a second and replied, "I'm not really sure but it certainly did feel somewhat racist."
"But they're black...and we're Asians..."
"Yeah, I know. I don't know how this ethno-reverse-racism shit works. It's...it's a bit different."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
Needless to say, this wouldn't be the last time stuff like this would happen.
We were in the nearing the end of the lunch rush, weeks before Christmas. The restaurant was slowly emptying but there were still some customers in line. I was running an order back and returned to my post as several new customers came in.
There were three of them, bundled up in their winter gear. Judging from their overalls and the boots, I determined that they were from the power plant and had just emerged from some maintenance work. When they removed their hoods and scarves, I saw that there were two black men and a black woman.
They scanned our menu, their eyes quickly darting back and forth. The woman stepped forward from the group and placed her order. A coworker wrote it down and yelled out the drink order to me as I started to fill the cup with ice. As I gave the woman her drink while she waited for her order, one of the men started to speak.
"You know, this is like a comedy show..." He remarked to his coworker, chuckling slightly.
"How so?" His companion replied, his attention focused on our menu.
"Well," The man started to explain, "You got a bunch of Asians making barbecue and serving it to us...I mean, am I right?" He looked at me, upon finishing his remarks.
I stared at him and I turned to look at my cousin, whose mouth was slightly open and his eyes wide in shock and confusion. The black woman stared back and forth at her coworker, unsure whether to apologize or to even say anything.
My cousin and I stared at the man for a few more seconds, oblivious to the pandemonium unfolding around us. We started to laugh and the black men started to join in. Internally, we were rather annoyed and mildly offended. Luckily, before any drastic occurred, we were handed their carryout orders. We dispensed them to the men and the woman and bade them good day. The woman gave us a slightly bemused glance as she left with her companions.
Afterwards, my cousin grabbed my arm and turned to me. In a quiet whisper he asked me, "Is it just me or was that kinda racist?"
I paused for a second and replied, "I'm not really sure but it certainly did feel somewhat racist."
"But they're black...and we're Asians..."
"Yeah, I know. I don't know how this ethno-reverse-racism shit works. It's...it's a bit different."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
Needless to say, this wouldn't be the last time stuff like this would happen.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Tales from the Pit - Rock Bottom
There are times when the going gets rough and the rough get going. There are also times when you really really know you've hit rock bottom. This is the story of one of the latter.
Today was a mildly slow day. Our lunch hour wasn't brisk as usual and it just felt a bit sad and slow. I was working on my book and outlining some ideas on the countertop in the afternoon. I hadn't had a customer for about an hour or so. Mildly bored, I walked back to the kitchen area to just think about some stuff and seek a change of scenery. However, I was then recalled back to the front line of duty as a customer came in.
"Hi, how I may help you?" I automatically said to the man who walked in the door. He was rather tall, with light brown skin and eyes that appeared slightly unfocused as he looked at me?
"I would like some chicken fried rice." He said, his Indian accent showing through slightly.
I was momentarily stunned as he watched me, clutching his hat. I didn't expect such a question like this to be asked at all since I thought we were perfectly obvious as a BBQ restaurant.
"Sir, we don't have any chicken fried rice. This is...this is a barbecue restaurant." I shuffled some orders nervously and plastered a fake smile on my face, hoping to convince him to see the obvious error.
"Why? I thought you had chicken fried rice."
And I thought you people would help me with tech support on my damn hard drive, I thought. I became slightly annoyed and furious at his persistence for chicken fried rice. However, for the sake of decorum and business, I internalized these thoughts and shuffled them into the recesses of my mind.
"We do sell chicken sandwiches though, sir. They are quite delicious." I offered the choices, hoping he would take them.
"What kind of chicken sandwich?" He asked, looking at the menu briefly.
"It's a chicken sandwich. With chicken. That is pulled and put on the bread with sauce, pickles, and onions." I replied tersely. This unexpected turn of events had become unwelcome and entirely ridiculous.
"Oh. Never mind then, thank you." He walked out the door, back to his truck parked in the middle of our lot. My aunts stared at him, genuinely confused and somewhat flabbergasted at the strange litany of questions we had received.
As for me, I figured I had reached rock bottom when an Indian driver walks into a BBQ restaurant manned by Asians and orders Chinese food. Yep, definitely rock bottom.
Thank God for vodka.
Today was a mildly slow day. Our lunch hour wasn't brisk as usual and it just felt a bit sad and slow. I was working on my book and outlining some ideas on the countertop in the afternoon. I hadn't had a customer for about an hour or so. Mildly bored, I walked back to the kitchen area to just think about some stuff and seek a change of scenery. However, I was then recalled back to the front line of duty as a customer came in.
"Hi, how I may help you?" I automatically said to the man who walked in the door. He was rather tall, with light brown skin and eyes that appeared slightly unfocused as he looked at me?
"I would like some chicken fried rice." He said, his Indian accent showing through slightly.
I was momentarily stunned as he watched me, clutching his hat. I didn't expect such a question like this to be asked at all since I thought we were perfectly obvious as a BBQ restaurant.
"Sir, we don't have any chicken fried rice. This is...this is a barbecue restaurant." I shuffled some orders nervously and plastered a fake smile on my face, hoping to convince him to see the obvious error.
"Why? I thought you had chicken fried rice."
And I thought you people would help me with tech support on my damn hard drive, I thought. I became slightly annoyed and furious at his persistence for chicken fried rice. However, for the sake of decorum and business, I internalized these thoughts and shuffled them into the recesses of my mind.
"We do sell chicken sandwiches though, sir. They are quite delicious." I offered the choices, hoping he would take them.
"What kind of chicken sandwich?" He asked, looking at the menu briefly.
"It's a chicken sandwich. With chicken. That is pulled and put on the bread with sauce, pickles, and onions." I replied tersely. This unexpected turn of events had become unwelcome and entirely ridiculous.
"Oh. Never mind then, thank you." He walked out the door, back to his truck parked in the middle of our lot. My aunts stared at him, genuinely confused and somewhat flabbergasted at the strange litany of questions we had received.
As for me, I figured I had reached rock bottom when an Indian driver walks into a BBQ restaurant manned by Asians and orders Chinese food. Yep, definitely rock bottom.
Thank God for vodka.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Tales from the Pit - Racial Misadventure #1
It was a day like any other Saturday. Cold, dreary, and gloomy with a sepulchral feel outside. How I loathed and hated winter, as it twisted me and affected me with a mood to equally match the depressing landscape. But as the snow melted and bits of sunlight came through, there was always hope for better times ahead.
Ignorance on the other hand remains a constant.
An African-American man came in and placed an order. Judging by his grizzled beard with bits of gray and the rough cut of his hands, I felt that he was a truck driver. This was made more obvious by the coat with many patches of various states he had on him. I wrote down his order and yelled it back to my aunt and mother to get a move on. It had been rather slow so we were lethargic. As I turned back to the register, the man suddenly spoke to me.
"So, what nationality are you? Mexican?"
"No, sir." I replied. At this point, incredulity had struck me. To be honest, do I look Mexican at all? Hell, my pseudo-Jewish friend is closer to being Mexican than I am. I was not offended really but more troubled by the misidentification.
"Are you Korean?"
"No."
"Well, what are you?"
"I'm Vietnamese."
The slow dawn of realization spread across his face as his neural synapses managed to connect the dots. However, what he said next once again made me seriously consider if he was trying to offend me.
"You guys don't have dogs or cats on this menu, do you?" He asked, in a somewhat desperate manner. His eyes grew wide as he pointed and scanned our menu.
"Nope." I deadpanned. At this point, I figured there's no point in trying to get offended since I felt we had passed beyond that into an unidentified region.
"Oh, okay. Because I know that it's a delicacy in some parts of you know....Asia."
"Yes, it is a delicacy back in the homeland. However, we do not serve cats or dogs."
"Oh, okay. I think it's a bit weird, you know. I mean...here, we keep them as pets but over there...I mean hell, they eat them!"
He chuckled slightly, slapping me on the shoulder. Naturally, I was determining whether my next approach would be to respond to that or call the ACLU for racial defamation though I doubt it would actually work.
"Well, some people keep pigs and chickens as pets. And we eat them too."
"Yeah, but you don't see a black man walking around with a chicken here on a leash."
"No, but I know some keep pigs as pets around." I retorted, somewhat mildly exasperated at this juncture in our conversation.
"Oh, yeah, that's true. Quite true. But hell, I'm just kidding with you, boss." He jovially remarked, laughing again.
"Oh, I would hope so."
Ignorance on the other hand remains a constant.
An African-American man came in and placed an order. Judging by his grizzled beard with bits of gray and the rough cut of his hands, I felt that he was a truck driver. This was made more obvious by the coat with many patches of various states he had on him. I wrote down his order and yelled it back to my aunt and mother to get a move on. It had been rather slow so we were lethargic. As I turned back to the register, the man suddenly spoke to me.
"So, what nationality are you? Mexican?"
"No, sir." I replied. At this point, incredulity had struck me. To be honest, do I look Mexican at all? Hell, my pseudo-Jewish friend is closer to being Mexican than I am. I was not offended really but more troubled by the misidentification.
"Are you Korean?"
"No."
"Well, what are you?"
"I'm Vietnamese."
The slow dawn of realization spread across his face as his neural synapses managed to connect the dots. However, what he said next once again made me seriously consider if he was trying to offend me.
"You guys don't have dogs or cats on this menu, do you?" He asked, in a somewhat desperate manner. His eyes grew wide as he pointed and scanned our menu.
"Nope." I deadpanned. At this point, I figured there's no point in trying to get offended since I felt we had passed beyond that into an unidentified region.
"Oh, okay. Because I know that it's a delicacy in some parts of you know....Asia."
"Yes, it is a delicacy back in the homeland. However, we do not serve cats or dogs."
"Oh, okay. I think it's a bit weird, you know. I mean...here, we keep them as pets but over there...I mean hell, they eat them!"
He chuckled slightly, slapping me on the shoulder. Naturally, I was determining whether my next approach would be to respond to that or call the ACLU for racial defamation though I doubt it would actually work.
"Well, some people keep pigs and chickens as pets. And we eat them too."
"Yeah, but you don't see a black man walking around with a chicken here on a leash."
"No, but I know some keep pigs as pets around." I retorted, somewhat mildly exasperated at this juncture in our conversation.
"Oh, yeah, that's true. Quite true. But hell, I'm just kidding with you, boss." He jovially remarked, laughing again.
"Oh, I would hope so."
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