Our Great Discrimination, Part 2

(My boyfriend, who is Mexican, and I are standing in line, speaking in Spanish. We realize we have forgotten to grab milk, and my boyfriend runs through the store to grab it. The cashier is one of my coworkers, a recently-hired, older gentleman who I’ve not really spoken to.)

Coworker: “[My name], why were you speaking Spanish?”

Me: “Oh! I was talking to my boyfriend.”

Coworker: “Well, don’t you know this is America, and everyone is supposed to speak English here?”

Me: “Well, I do speak English, but I’m trying to improve my Spanish. His family is from Mexico, so—”

Coworker: “You’re dating a Mexican, and he can’t even be bothered to learn English?”

Me: “Actually, sir, he’s a second generation Mexican-American. He speaks English, too.”

Coworker: “Yeah, right! He’s probably in the Mexican drug cartel!”

(As my coworker is speaking, my boyfriend returns and speaks in English.)

Boyfriend: “D*** straight I am! Here’s the milk, babe.”

(My coworker’s face goes really pale, and that is the last I hear about my ‘drug cartel’ boyfriend!)