othelladub's Diaryland Diary



Am I racist? (or just an asshole)

I went to the restroom here at my job tonight. Washed my quickly-approaching-creepy-new-age-guy-faux-ponytail (that's fatuous, I know) as is my wont to do, and left the restroom behind. There was a man standing at the front desk with his girlfriend. I dashed past him and his girlfriend, negotiated the side-door, and re-emerged behind the counter to serve them. The man was a black man, and he had a beautiful ebony princess by his side. Working in the hotel business, it is my job to acommodate all different types of people, and his being black didn't strike me as being extraordinary, or anything to take note of.

Immediately upon my getting behind the desk, the man remarked in a forceful, direct tone,

"Are you in a hurry? 'Cuz I'm not in a hurry. What's your hurry!?"

Being a bit perturbed by this, I foolishly responded to this with my own rude reply,

"No - I'm not in a hurry. Are you?"


Then I broke the silence, asking them what type of room they'd like to get, one bed or two, etc. and so on. Then he pulled out his credit card and license, and I figured everything was kosher. Then he said,

"You better watch what you say to people. Because I will check-your-ass!"

At which point a woman stepped in the door, returning from the pool area. She paused in middle-aged bourgeois white-woman horror.

Right after his remark, and nigh-simultaneous to the white woman at the door, I responded with,

"Well, you were rude with me to begin with, sir."

At this point the man's girlfriend suggested they leave, and they walked off. I don't know why he took issue with me. Perhaps because I was in a near-sprint out of the restroom, and back behind the counter, he took this to be some form of racism. But I do this all the time, and its kind of an exaggerated Warner-Bros. mime of customer service. I certainly don't have anything against this guy, and I could care less whether he's black, white, or whatever. But just because I'm a little manic, a little bit odd, this dude perceives that as racist, or I don't know -- But he's got the wrong dude.

Fuck - even coming from a machismo asshole like that, it bothers me that someone would think I'm a racist mutherfucker. It hurts me to think that even 1% of his thought process might be true. I know, on many levels, that its the individual that counts, not what they look like, or the type of car they drive, or if they've mastered the art of name-dropping, or whatever.

I guess my big prejudice is against old people, and children. So many old people I run across are cranky as hell. I'm sure not all of them are like this, but - damn! And then little kids - they have so much energy, man, I can get worn out trying to keep up with the damn li'l tykes.


So about half an hour after that guy leaves with his girlfriend, another dude comes in. This guy's white, with a cop mustache. He asks for a room, asks for a discount. I give him a discount. At that point a bunch of kids come by asking for towels. Then a dude comes for an iron and ironing-board. I get the towel for the kids, the iron for the guy, figuring it only takes ten seconds, so its better to get it out of the way up-front.

Next thing I know, Serpico is headed outta there! Apparently, the two seconds during which his transaction was interrupted to assist other human beings was 2 seconds too many. But wait - he left his mastercard on the table!

"Sir - Sir, you've left your mastercard here!!"

He came back, took it, and looked at me as if I was the scum of the earth.

What does all this mean? Why are people so fucking trigger-happy these days? Why can't I be tranquil and shit, and deal with these mofos messing with my karma?

I think this country really needs to legalize pot. Maybe acid. I still won't do the shit, but it would definitely help me were I able to pass out tabs to unruly customers.

Believe it!

The cinema of Denise Richards

1:36 a.m. - 2003-06-01


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