I was asked to interview for a position at a small deli when I was eighteen. The interview was not an interview at all. I was offered the job immediately and was thoroughly confused as to why.
Fast forward a few days. My boss was shocked and agitated to learn that I did not speak Spanish. That sure would have been a GREAT question to ask during my non-interview interview, especially since I had zero reason to think that I needed to be bilingual to take the job.
Three weeks after that, my boss came up to me and said, “I met your Mom at the hospital today. She was in the meeting we catered. She doesn't look like you.” Her eyes were incredibly narrow and she was scowling.
I just stared at her. Then, the other shoe dropped.
BOSS: “I am not racist, Andrea. My family is very diverse. I have a lot of white family members, too.”
ME: “I never said you were racist. What does this have to do with you meeting my Mom?”
BOSS: “Your Dad's at least Latino, right?”
ME: “No.”
BOSS: “What is he?”
ME: “My Dad.”
From that point on, she made my time there Hell. She wouldn't let me split tips or keep my own. She would scream at me constantly. She was rude to my Mother and Grandmother when they came in, SPENT MONEY, and immediately left. She-and this is the owner I am referring to throughout all of this-spread rumors to the rest of the employees. A girl who I was friendly with was kind enough to inform me that I had apparently “tricked [boss lady] into thinking [I] was Latino to get the job.”
I realized then that I was the only person working there not of Latino descent. Apparently, she assumed that I WAS Latino and otherwise liked me. Poof! Instant job.
I had already experienced my fill of bigotry in my short life and I resented this woman to no end, particularly since I saw her as a fellow minority. You see, I had this silly Utopian idea that we minorities should all love and support each other because we all face racial bias and it sucks! I hatched a revenge plan in about three seconds flat.
The next day, during the lunch rush, I was commanded to make the potato salad just as I had been the three days prior. This was easy since it was Reser's brand and I simply had to scoop it out of the carton and into a bowl so we could continue to keep up the lie to customers that it was homemade. Boss insisted on this.
This place had a TON of regulars and many of them were present. Let's say at least a dozen…in a small town…where most folks worked at the same hospital and knew each other by no more than two degrees of separation.
I took the huge carton of store bought potato salad up front, asked for everyone's attention, and said, “This potato salad was homemade with love at a Reser's plant near you.” I slammed the carton on the counter as hard as I could for emphasis and walked out. I was beaming when I stopped by to pick up my last check a few days later.
The right thing to do is to say that I regret it. I do NOT. I would not do it again, but that is only because my now 35-year-old conscience would not allow me to. She should not have been a bigoted witch. She should not have hired me based on assumptions about who I was. She should not have punished me for failing to live up to her assumptions. She ESPECIALLY should not have treated my Mother and Grandmother like dirt…and she should not have forced us to lie to customers about that damn potato salad dozens of times every day. Reser's is not that bad! Why couldn't she have just been honest? Better yet, my beautiful white Mom who was apparently not good enough makes the best potato salad I've ever had. She would have happily taught Boss Witch the recipe.