Don’t Make Me Up To Be Racist
(I have been getting my makeup done at a department store, by an employee of who is desperate to sell me pretty much half her stall. I have been sat for about half an hour.)
Me: “How much longer is this going to take?”
Employee: “Just a couple more minutes.”
(Fifteen minutes later:)
Employee: “And… done!”
(She hands me a mirror.)
Me: “Umm…”
Employee: “Good, huh? The foundation and blush are £50 each for the 250ml containers, and—”
Me: “You made me look like Bob the Drag Queen.”
Employee: “I don’t know who that is, but if you like it, sure.”
Me: “Well, she’s a drag queen, and she’s black.”
Employee: “Is she pretty?”
Me: “Yes, but you’ve literally given me blackface.”
Employee: “But she’s pretty, which means you’re pretty!”
Me: “I’d like you to remove it, please. I’m not going anywhere with blackface.”
Employee: “I will if you agree to buy the products I used on you today.”
Me: “Agree to buy something that makes me look racist? Not on your life.”
(I ran off and bought some makeup wipes. I must have used about half removing everything she put on me. As I left she tried to alert security to my “stealing,” but the guard just rolled his eyes. I’m assuming I’m not the first incident.)