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Crumbs
A Ghetto Grocer War Story
© 2013 James LaFond
About five or six years ago, on a Sunday afternoon, I was working the front of the supermarket. Donny, the off duty cop that was handling security, was on the camera system, monitoring the store interior from the security office. I worked the front end displays, keeping an eye on the register for any customer service needs and greeting the customers. From this position I could see the store front, and preempt any panhandlers that came from the south.
I noticed that one of the hacks [illegal cabbies] was parked in the loading zone and went outside to tell him to move. When I arrived out front, I noticed that the hack was speaking with a former coworker who had a great hatred for me, even though I had not fired him like so many of his fellows. He had faked an injury, quit his job, and then sued. I knew the man’s wife was inside shopping so did not mind him loitering out front. But when I hit the lobby I could hear the f-words thundering. Then, when I hit the sidewalk to talk to the hack I said, “He guys, do you think you could clean up the language. Church just let out. We have families shopping here.”
Even though only Jack, the former employee, was swearing, I asked both of them, just so Jack would not feel picked on, as he had a strong persecution complex.
Jack began screaming about being discriminated against because of his ‘blackness.’ I quietly stated that I was speaking to both of them and that I just wanted to maintain a family atmosphere. The hack moved off right away, not wanting to jeopardize my already marginal tolerance for his activity. Jack, however, continued to rant and rave, so I went inside, hoping that his wife would be checking out directly and get him off the lot by default. I did not want to have a scene, or sick Donny on him, because Donny was a cop and Jack was a con and they had some bad blood.
Sure enough Jack’s wife was checking out when I came inside. Donny had seen the discussion on the security camera and came down by the coin machine to ask me if everything was alright. I told him that everything should be cool now that Jack’s wife was leaving. As it turned out, that assessment was a bit optimistic.
Jack came in stammering in a docile manner and his wife was on fire, giving me the ‘what to’ and the ‘why for’ over me ‘racially profiling’ her husband and not letting him wait on the front walk. I tried to explain that this was not the case, but she became increasingly angry. From that point I just kept voicing platitudes like, ‘Did you find everything you needed Miss?’ ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ and ‘You have a nice day now.’
Donny was having a hard time suppressing his grin, when she raised her voice, “You, You! Who you callin’ you, you!”
‘You’ Had been upgraded to a racist slur. This was hand-off time. On those occasions [about a third of the time] that a white person had a racial problem with Donny, I would step in. When a black person would have a racial problem with me [about a third of the time] he would step in. This is the only way to handle racial hatred. Once somebody becomes convinced that your behavior is racially motivated, they cannot be reasoned with. It is tougher to reason with a racist than a drunk or a crack head, as they have descended into pure emotion, with no capacity to reason.
Donny stepped forward and ran interference as I stood calmly by. He spoke to her as she pointed and yelled at me, and Jack milled impotently about her heels. Finally, fed up with not being able to get me angry, Jack’s wife pointed at Donny, and burst out, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself stickin’ up for this cracka!”
She then pointed menacingly down at me [this was a big Amazon woman in high heels], "Hell, he ain’t even much of a cracka—he’s a crumb!”
She then turned on her heels and stormed out as we wished her a good day. We managed to hold it in until she got to the parking lot and then burst into laughter. We were thrilled with our new superhero crime-fighting identities: The Traitor and The Crumb. That kind of had a ring to it.
A racial harassment law suit was threatened. Donny vouched for my social handicap [being colorblind] and the threats were dropped.
The Violence Project
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