Race And Relations

(I’m working as a server in my family’s restaurant. It’s important to note that I’m half-black, but can pass for being a tan white. A group I’m serving flag me down.)

Customer: “Hey, I got a complaint about you.”

Me: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Customer: “My wife and I’ve been finished for ten minutes and those white people over at the other table got their checks and their table cleaned and we still haven’t even gotten ours.”

(I look down at their table, I checked up on them not five minutes ago to ask for the check and they said they weren’t done, and they haven’t eaten much more. Meanwhile the customers they’re talking about had cleaned their plates.)

Customer: “You think we’re gonna pay at all, much less tip, for such a discriminatory business? Forget it. We want to talk to your manager and get your racist a** fired.”

Me: “Sir… I’ll do you one better. Want me to get the owner?”

(The customer grins smugly and nods.)

Me: “Hey, Dad!”

(My dad, who is unmistakably black, came up to the table. Upon seeing him, the customer looked at me and registered that I’m not just really tan, and just kind of sank into his bench while his wife, who had just looked embarrassed at this ordeal, burst out laughing. My dad at least got a good laugh out of it – immediately before he banned the guy from the restaurant for trying to use the race card to snag a free meal.)