© 2022, the
Institute for Applied Common Sense
When I am with some of my Japanese friends, I often
mention that when I was a Hispanic kid growing up in North Carolina during the 50s / 60s, if I saw a Caucasian woman on the street, I immediately crossed to
the other side. They often appear confused, not sure whether to laugh, cry, or
even comment.
As of 5:35 am Monday, March 21, I will have been back
in Southern California 4 weeks. Since my
arrival (excluding time spent in the train station and walking through homeless camps on Los Angeles County Superior Court and United States District Court property, I've seen roughly 8,372 people.
Only 28 – ½ of them have been Negro, black, or perhaps, African –American.
I encountered 4 fellow black folks in my 3 week stay
in Oceanside, and another 24 – ½ in Carlsbad Village, where I arrived on
Monday. During a conversation with a Nashville friend, she asked what I thought
of the numbers. I told her that I wasn’t
sure, but imagined there might be at least 27 possible explanations, not one
about which I felt confident.
During a period some years ago, which some might call,
“Open Season on Young Black Men,” I generated a post, Exist with Caution: You May Not Be Who You Think You Are; Or Be Seen the Way You Want. Having had all of this preparation over 70
years for people seeing me with different Ray - Bans, I developed a response
while visiting Dollar Tree stores, when cashiers asked me whether I wanted a
receipt. “A black man should always have a receipt,” and perhaps a few
old ones in his pocket, just in case.
Despite this pro – active approach, I actually found
myself unprepared last week. I bought a
bumper case and screen protector for my smartphone at 8:38 am at a local
Walmart, and was concerned about having it properly matched to my phone. The sales clerk provided a few hints, but was
not allowed to assist me. She suggested
that a manufacturer’s rep would arrive at 10 am, and that I could avail myself
of their services.
I proceeded to my Taco Office, which did not open
until 9:00 am, and waited a few minutes to take care of “bizness.” During my wait, I filled out the onlineWalmart survey (expressing my sincere satisfaction with rude sales associates who
never appear in Walmart ads), thinking a $1,000 gift card would be right on the
money right then. I carelessly threw the
crumpled receipt in the trash, and it was only after I crossed half of the
parking lot separating the two, that I realized it. Walking ¾ mile back to Taco Bell, I was
unable to find it. Undeterred, I
returned to the electronics department at 10:22 am, thinking that the
manufacturer’s rep had surely arrived.
Silly me. Now,
not only had he not arrived, but there was an elderly lady in line ahead of
me. I walked around the store and returned
at 11:15 am, only to see the elderly lady depart, and no rep. I figured that I could apply the screen
protector myself, or have the fellow at the Metro PCS store, who had switched
my service the day before, apply it.
As I was preparing to leave the store, a friendly
Walmart sales associate requested my receipt.
And there I stood trying to simply
explain how I managed to come from the rear of the store with two still packaged
items, and no receipt. She had that look
of having heard my explanation before. Fortunately, I was able to resurrect mycorporate business voice, and it only took me 45 minutes to be gone.
So, fast forward to this afternoon, when I was in a
Marshalls with no black folks in sight for miles around. As is my wont, I left packages from other
stores close to the entrance, to avoid walking around with open bags. I was immediately approached by a security
lady who advised me against it, suggesting that someone might take my
previously purchased items, and that Marshalls would not be responsible. I explained that I preferred not to walk
around the store with open packages out of concern for… well, you know. Not having any appreciation of my issue, she
insisted, and said, “You have nothing to worry about, Sir. “
As I put on my newly purchased Ray Bans, and left the
store, I realized: There are many situations where a black dude walking through
a white anything would be regarded as suspect.
I guess that it just depends on… “Whatever.”