Racist

Starbucks stores do inter-establishment transfers from time to time when supplies are low.  One Monday morning we made a pretty even trade with another store in the area for some mocha.  We were going to throw some syrups their way, or something.

I was up front that day, so I was in charge of meeting the other store’s partner and sorting out some stuff.  Not a big deal.  The guy shows up.  He’s nice. All smiles.  He said that he needed a signature from my manager.  I turn to the bar area, and I yell without thinking,

“Hey! The Mocha Man is here!”

He was black.  Instantly, this sensation went up my spine.  I remember thinking, “Oh, fuck. Please don’t beat my ass…” I turned to him immediately after I realized what I yelled.

“Not like because you’re… you know. Because you brought the mocha.  You bring the mocha.  Wait, no. Ugh. I’m sorry.”

He just laughed.  It was obvious that I wasn’t trying to call him out for being black.  He was honest to God bringing us mocha. I just felt awful for that.  It would be like me, for some random reason, taking a bag of beans somewhere and the clerk yelling,

“Hey, y’all! The beaner’s here!”

As much as I think of myself a frijolero, I don’t think I would appreciate that.  So, to random black dude I called Mocha Man. I’m sorry again.

Is this what white people feel like all the time? Awesome.

-dago

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One thought on “Racist”

  1. Fucking hilarious, man.
    People are just too goddamn sensitive when it comes to these kinds of things. It is not that serious.

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