Smoking Pot Calling The Kettle… Black

(I am coming on my shift and my manager is leaving, but wants to show me his new car so we proceed outside. While we are discussing the car, a Cadillac pulls up in the far corner of the parking lot and just sits there for around thirty minutes as we talk about the car. I jokingly say “there is another drug deal going down.” My manager gets in his car and pulls up next to the Cadillac, then comes back to the door, gets out, and the both of us go inside.)

Me: “So what was he doing?”

Manager: “He was smoking a joint. He claims to be a guest here; I’m going to verify that.”

(We get to the desk and look up the room number. As we are doing this the guy walks in and stands by the desk.)

Guest: “So just because I am black and wearing a wife beater you assume that I was doing something illegal?”

Me: “Uh, what?”

Guest: “You’re racist, man! You assumed I was dealing drugs and doing illegal things cause I’m black!”

(I am a white male in my early twenties, and my manager is an older black guy.)

Me: “If you want to get technical about it, sir, you were doing something. Last time I checked pot is still illegal; correct me if I’m wrong. Instead of accusing me of being racist, you should be thankful that we haven’t gotten the cops involved in this matter.”

(He turned and walked away. He didn’t say a single word to me for the rest of his stay. Turns out you’re racist for catching someone smoking pot; who knew?)