She had come in earlier that afternoon. The White Rabbit is actually closed on the weekend from 3:00-5:00pm, allowing the workers a long enough break to flip over the kitchen stock and execute the necessary sidework.
Our worker, Ali, set down what she was doing, and greeted the woman, apologizing for the inconvenience but inviting her to return at 5:00. The woman had nothing short of a dozen questions before she left. Patiently, Ali answered each query before the woman left.
Hours later, the same woman returns. Lucky me, she sits at the bar. I warmly greet her, and offer a food and drink menu, awaiting her request.
...But then she starts, "I was here earlier. I came all the way from Dearborn, and I need to tell you, your worker in the blue is very rude."
Those are always my favorite icebreakers with guests. I in turn apologized and heard out her side of the story... Not that I hadn't already seen and heard the entire exchange earlier. I thanked her for coming back in to dine with us, and continued on to take what I already had a gut-feeling about, the single-handedly most obnoxious drink order I have ever encountered. I spent the next few minutes hurriedly running to the basement several times to check our stock.
Finally, muddling every piece of fruit we had to offer, I shook up her cocktail. Our guest then puts in her order. Minutes drag by as I'm listening to her rant on about professionalism in the workplace, hoping this appetizer would come out soon.
It was one of those days.
Alas. The appetizer.
The woman picks a piece of food up, sniffs it (oh yes, she did), and then proceeds to take a bite. As if
she was having an epiphany, she was suddenly aware of what she was eating. She told me to call
over the manager. I couldn't wait for this one.
Richard approaches.
She pinched a wad of food off of her plate. Holding it in the air, she exclaims, "This is a damn potato chop. I'm married to a Chaldean, and this is a Chaldean dish."
My manager has this expression on his face that reads, yes-- obviously, it is a potato chop. Your point is?She waves the little fried disc in his face. "How are you going to be Chaldean and have a Chaldean dish on your menu, and not call it by it's Chaldean name? That is an injustice to your people. You need to change the name on your menu."
Here's the deal. The restaurant is owned by Richard's wife, Ellen. Yes, they are Chaldean. A good portion of the people who come into the restaurant are friends and family of the couple, so they know what is on the menu. Everyone else? Regular, plain, boring, all-American people. Just your average Joes.
If I said "potato chop" would you know what you were eating? Chances are, no, you wouldn't. The name we use at the restaurant gives guests who are not familiar with a cultural dish a better undertanding of what they are ordering. That's all. No harm, no foul, no offense intended.
So. We go from her upset with Ali, to barking at Richard, to insinuating another manager of mine is "a little sweet, if you know what I mean".
Anything else?
Yes, I'm afraid she didn't stop there.
Two younger girls sat down beside the woman. Off in their own little world, they sipped on martinis made by yours truly, and carried on with conversations of where they had just traveled.
"Scotland was wonderful," the blonde gushed, "Best trip ever!"
The brunette beside her nodded in agreement, adding, "Georgia was amazing. We went on a haunted tour of places in the area and saw some homes that were used in the underground railroad during slavery. "
Now, I didn't mention this before because it is truly irrelevant to me who I wait on-- what color they are, how much money they make, where they come from, what they drive, who their daddy is, you name it. Everybody's money is green to me. Having said that, the woman who had been under my skin for the last hour and a half, is fully or at least part African-American.
She had whipped around in her seat, and nearly went off on the two girls who had been minding their own business until now.
"What did you just say?! I find that VERY offensive"
Mind you, so far, everything seemed to be offensive that day.
She reeled a deathlook at the girl who just returned from Georgia. "You need to watch what you say. You don't know what you're talking about and who was affected...."
Completely abashed, the girls looked at eachother lost for words. I stepped away from my bar entirely worn out from this woman, leaving the hot-headed situation to my male-counterpart coworker to defuse.
Look. I get it.
All she heard-- the only word that made her ears ring-- was the "s" word, slavery.
The girl meant nothing by it. Are people a bit numb to it? Yes. Are people also over-sensitive as well? Absolutely.
I am not going to sit here and go on about how long ago slavery was. That my daddy, nor his daddy, or the daddies before him-- did they ever own slaves. That just because I am white did "my people" ever oppress yours, nor were we born with a silver spoon in our mouths. My ancestors were indentured servants from Eastern Europe. I am only the second generation in. They had come over here with no money, and no belongings and no idea as to where they belonged in this country. My ancestors were so poor, they used flour sacks for underwear. Do not be so quick to judge when you assume someone is talking badly about a non-joking matter just because they are lighter than your own skin tone. When it comes down to it, you are very privileged yourself and there should be no room to talk. Here I am, listening to you complain, all the while I am serving your highness.
The golden moment of handing out the check came, and I gladly took payment, bidding her adieu.
All I could say was "wow". There are two lessons I took away from that exchange.
1. What I took from the girls: Be careful what you say, and who can hear you. There may be people who misconstrue your message, even if you are being decent.
2. From my guest of honor: Not everyone is out to get you. Nobody in the restaurant was attacking you, ignoring you, or defaming you or your husband's "people". That until you started bad-mouthing everyone, I gave you my best service as you are my guest, and even after then did I ask "how high" when told to jump. Just because someone had the audacity to dare use the "s" word did they use it with any racist undertones. You are sitting here in one of the wealthiest cities in Michigan, sipping on some alcohol. Just breathe.
While Sunday night was in the very least as intriguing as it also was a migraine to sit through, I cannot wait for the next dose of entertainment.
Until then, it's all in a day's work.
--Malia Etienette
Photo Credit:
Keep Calm - www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk
Potato Chop Tutorial- www.youtube.com
S Word - www.archive.burlingtonfreepress.com
Ralph Said Fudge - www.pleasecutthecrap.com
Your People - www.etsy.com
No comments:
Post a Comment