As you may know, Hamilton is in the middle of bumblefuck New York. And in places such as this, as a minority, you have to prepare yourself for certain things, from the stares to the much much worse. I'm not sure what could have prepared me for what happened to me and three of my friends last night, however.
Last night, me, C, K, and T (Chinese, Chinese, White, South African - this is important) were out and about, having a fun night that included dinner, engaging in "girl talk," and etc, etc. Before going back to campus, C had to get some alcohol so we went to Hannaford, this local supermarket. Now, we get the alcohol (and some other random stuff like ice cream) and head to a checkout line. By then it was around 8-9pm and there were maybe 2-3 other customers in the entire store. We place the stuff on the conveyor belt and, not surprisingly, she asks all us of for our IDs. We hand them over, no problem. The cashier waves this other lady over, who takes the IDs and then whips out a book full of pictures of various state IDs (never knew there was such a thing).
She goes through C's first, then gets to mine. She examines my ID so hard, I thought she would burn a hole in it with her damn eyes. She flips it over and over and then finally asks me how old I am. I respond, "22." Then, with some bitchy tone, she says, "Is this real?" I'm like, yeah, it's an old Jersey license. She proceeds to check my ID against the book's NJ license. From where I'm standing, I could CLEARLY see that my ID looked exactly like the picture. Granted, my license didn't have the fancy holograms and barcode like C's, but if it looks EXACTLY like the picture, what's the damn problem? After flipping it over a few more times, she finally proceeds to T's. She had a NY state license so that passed on rather smoothly. The lady hands those three back to the cashier. At this point, we're just like, FINALLY. It must have been over 5 minutes.
Now, as the lady is checking K's license, the cashier looks at C's license, then mine and then she has the AUDACITY to say something along the lines of, "Who's who? You two look the same." Then she backtracks and says, "Oh, wait, I can tell by your faces." And then she also proceeds to hand C my and T's licenses as she says to C, "Give these to the nice girl behind you." I'm close enough to reach for them (and do) but why would she say that? Was she implying C was being a bitch? If anything, I was the only bitchy one at this point because I will admit that I responded to the other lady in quite the bitchy tone.
Meanwhile, the other lady is STILL checking K's license. Then suddenly, she says, "I'm sorry, but we cannot accept this. It says under 21 on it." By this point, we're pretty damn annoyed. K walks over and says she is 21 and although it says "under 21," the birth date clearly shows that she's of age. The lady counters and says, "But it says under 21." (Seriously, does this bitch know simple math?) This goes back and forth until the lady finally makes this bullshit answer up and says that the store policy says that if the license says under 21, they can't sell it. K, surprisingly calmly, asks for the manager. The lady says she doesn't know who the manager is and that it's only the night manager. The cashier picks up the phone and calls for the manager. After a few minutes, he comes over in some ratty ass shirt, Hannaford cap, and a tiny ass nametag on said shirt was the only indicator of his position. He comes over and immediately, the lady says, "Hi, Bobby." (Don't know the manager my ass, bitch!) So K, the lady, and the manager are conferring over this damn situation. Slowly, the talking gets louder and K continues to defend her position, even going so far as to request to see this so-called store policy in writing. The manager has no fucking clue and continues to say that whatever the lady said is final and right. As K continues, both bitches are smirking at us. Not only that, but the cashier had the nerve to say in a bitchy tone, "Why don't you go to Price Chopper (another grocery store)." We continue to hassle but after being at this fucking checkout line for at least 30 minutes, we're just like fuck it, there is no point in arguing with the ignorant and dumb. In the end, we just left all the shit on the conveyor belt and left.
NEVER have I been subjected to such bullshit. I have dealt with miniscule moments of racism in my life but last night took the fucking cake. Seriously?? If you're gonna be racist, at least have the balls to deny selling us shit because three of us are minorities instead of pulling out some lame ass rule to hide behind against the white girl with a legit license!
K and T planned to go back there today at a different time to talk to a REAL manager. I haven't talked to them yet today but we'll see.
Last night, me, C, K, and T (Chinese, Chinese, White, South African - this is important) were out and about, having a fun night that included dinner, engaging in "girl talk," and etc, etc. Before going back to campus, C had to get some alcohol so we went to Hannaford, this local supermarket. Now, we get the alcohol (and some other random stuff like ice cream) and head to a checkout line. By then it was around 8-9pm and there were maybe 2-3 other customers in the entire store. We place the stuff on the conveyor belt and, not surprisingly, she asks all us of for our IDs. We hand them over, no problem. The cashier waves this other lady over, who takes the IDs and then whips out a book full of pictures of various state IDs (never knew there was such a thing).
She goes through C's first, then gets to mine. She examines my ID so hard, I thought she would burn a hole in it with her damn eyes. She flips it over and over and then finally asks me how old I am. I respond, "22." Then, with some bitchy tone, she says, "Is this real?" I'm like, yeah, it's an old Jersey license. She proceeds to check my ID against the book's NJ license. From where I'm standing, I could CLEARLY see that my ID looked exactly like the picture. Granted, my license didn't have the fancy holograms and barcode like C's, but if it looks EXACTLY like the picture, what's the damn problem? After flipping it over a few more times, she finally proceeds to T's. She had a NY state license so that passed on rather smoothly. The lady hands those three back to the cashier. At this point, we're just like, FINALLY. It must have been over 5 minutes.
Now, as the lady is checking K's license, the cashier looks at C's license, then mine and then she has the AUDACITY to say something along the lines of, "Who's who? You two look the same." Then she backtracks and says, "Oh, wait, I can tell by your faces." And then she also proceeds to hand C my and T's licenses as she says to C, "Give these to the nice girl behind you." I'm close enough to reach for them (and do) but why would she say that? Was she implying C was being a bitch? If anything, I was the only bitchy one at this point because I will admit that I responded to the other lady in quite the bitchy tone.
Meanwhile, the other lady is STILL checking K's license. Then suddenly, she says, "I'm sorry, but we cannot accept this. It says under 21 on it." By this point, we're pretty damn annoyed. K walks over and says she is 21 and although it says "under 21," the birth date clearly shows that she's of age. The lady counters and says, "But it says under 21." (Seriously, does this bitch know simple math?) This goes back and forth until the lady finally makes this bullshit answer up and says that the store policy says that if the license says under 21, they can't sell it. K, surprisingly calmly, asks for the manager. The lady says she doesn't know who the manager is and that it's only the night manager. The cashier picks up the phone and calls for the manager. After a few minutes, he comes over in some ratty ass shirt, Hannaford cap, and a tiny ass nametag on said shirt was the only indicator of his position. He comes over and immediately, the lady says, "Hi, Bobby." (Don't know the manager my ass, bitch!) So K, the lady, and the manager are conferring over this damn situation. Slowly, the talking gets louder and K continues to defend her position, even going so far as to request to see this so-called store policy in writing. The manager has no fucking clue and continues to say that whatever the lady said is final and right. As K continues, both bitches are smirking at us. Not only that, but the cashier had the nerve to say in a bitchy tone, "Why don't you go to Price Chopper (another grocery store)." We continue to hassle but after being at this fucking checkout line for at least 30 minutes, we're just like fuck it, there is no point in arguing with the ignorant and dumb. In the end, we just left all the shit on the conveyor belt and left.
NEVER have I been subjected to such bullshit. I have dealt with miniscule moments of racism in my life but last night took the fucking cake. Seriously?? If you're gonna be racist, at least have the balls to deny selling us shit because three of us are minorities instead of pulling out some lame ass rule to hide behind against the white girl with a legit license!
K and T planned to go back there today at a different time to talk to a REAL manager. I haven't talked to them yet today but we'll see.
i seriously doubt that the woman at the counter could actually differentiate between c and u. i guess giving your and t's IDs to c with a 'i can tell u my your faces' was worth a try.
ReplyDeletei remember maity and i were asked a few times if we were twins. it's kinda funny when we think about it now.
update us on how the REAL manager responded to this.
People (specifically, night-shift checkout ladies with hangups) are weird. This whole 'they all look the same' line of thinking that the woman seemed to be following is just one of the oldest racist chestnuts around.
ReplyDeleteAs Pragyan says, do let us know the outcome of your talk with the actual manager. And (I don't know if this is any comfort) those females will probably be stuck with the checkout line forever while you get out and do other, cooler things with your life.
If it were me, I'd give them a gift hamper of chicken... with poison interlaced with the meat... the kind that keeps you in the bathroom for the next three weeks.
ReplyDelete