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A tall fellow from New York came into my grocery store one February evening. He looked to be in his thirties, and he had an ambiguously tan skin tone. He struck me as half black, but I was unsure and also didn't care. The man meant to pick up a Western Union. However, it had been sent incorrectly. Also, while my coworker R and my boss B were trying to make it work, the computer broke, rendering us helpless. So we sent him away. He did not seem angry at us, just angry at the situation.
A little before eight pm that night, the three of us were relaxing in the office for a spell. It was peaceful as we watched the store cameras and gossiped. Suddenly, the guy came back in, stalking up to Customer Service with ire plain on his features. B went to deal with him, and it was yelling from the start. What I gathered was that the *Rival Chain's* WU had let him get his cash. Whether that came to pass through some kind of computer treachery or by yelling at WU on the phone so much that they fixed it for him is entirely up to speculation. I started to hear threats in his voice, specifically against R.
"We should get his license number," I said, peering down at R. His expression was pale and still, the visage of a man awaiting his doom. I amended, "Should I go get his license number?"
"Isn't the cop outside?"
"I'll go get the cop." And I whirled around to walk out. By this time, the man was literally foaming at the mouth (ew). He raved about things like, "Next time, I'll be the right complexion!" I had to walk past him get to the door. When I was maybe seven feet in front of him, he included me in his shouting.
"You didn't try hard enough; SHE didn't try hard enough..." he continued, wildly gesturing in my general direction before I - thankfully - skirted past him and calmly strode toward the door. Once outside, I jogged partway to the police car standing sentry in the corner, and I informed him that this man was shouting and cussing and making threats to our employees. The officer caught him as he hoofed out the door. In the end, the officer just warned the loony to stay away and told us to call the cops if we ever saw him again. R was fairly shaken. To be fair, though, I must have been more keyed up than I realized at the time. When I went to get the cop, I did not don a jacket, yet I did not feel the February chill at all.
It still angers me that a broken machine makes innocent employees racist, probably just because we're white. Or because the man was a maniac.
A little before eight pm that night, the three of us were relaxing in the office for a spell. It was peaceful as we watched the store cameras and gossiped. Suddenly, the guy came back in, stalking up to Customer Service with ire plain on his features. B went to deal with him, and it was yelling from the start. What I gathered was that the *Rival Chain's* WU had let him get his cash. Whether that came to pass through some kind of computer treachery or by yelling at WU on the phone so much that they fixed it for him is entirely up to speculation. I started to hear threats in his voice, specifically against R.
"We should get his license number," I said, peering down at R. His expression was pale and still, the visage of a man awaiting his doom. I amended, "Should I go get his license number?"
"Isn't the cop outside?"
"I'll go get the cop." And I whirled around to walk out. By this time, the man was literally foaming at the mouth (ew). He raved about things like, "Next time, I'll be the right complexion!" I had to walk past him get to the door. When I was maybe seven feet in front of him, he included me in his shouting.
"You didn't try hard enough; SHE didn't try hard enough..." he continued, wildly gesturing in my general direction before I - thankfully - skirted past him and calmly strode toward the door. Once outside, I jogged partway to the police car standing sentry in the corner, and I informed him that this man was shouting and cussing and making threats to our employees. The officer caught him as he hoofed out the door. In the end, the officer just warned the loony to stay away and told us to call the cops if we ever saw him again. R was fairly shaken. To be fair, though, I must have been more keyed up than I realized at the time. When I went to get the cop, I did not don a jacket, yet I did not feel the February chill at all.
It still angers me that a broken machine makes innocent employees racist, probably just because we're white. Or because the man was a maniac.
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