my first real job working at a large savings and loan. I was hired as a clerk/typist and I worked in the training department. This was my first experience in the real world where everybody who was anybody in the corporate world was a white. In 1975 you rarely saw any people of color in supervisory positions and I soon began to experience what real prejudice felt like. I remember thinking to myself ... wow ... these people really think they're better than me ... and trust me, they were about as subtle as an elephant who just took a dump in your living room. One of my bosses was a young girl from Ohio. She was about 27 to my 18 and was a college grad. I also naively, considered her my friend. I made this assumption because we shared boyfriend stories and talked about clothes and all the other girly things that female co-workers share. However, every now and then she would ask me if I could run to the corner liquor store and get her a pack of cigarettes. Sure! No problem. I’d done this for her several times, without question, never realizing what was really happening. The very real barriers which separated us were clearly being define
d ... by her. One day, when I was super busy and was down to my last cigarette, I asked her if she would return the favor. She looked at me like I had three heads ... "no," she said "I’m too busy" ... just like that ... it couldn't have stung more than if she'd slapped me. And in that instant, I realized that she was never my friend. How could she be friends with someone like me ... an uneducated, unsophisticated, little Mexican-American girl who was just a clerk/typist. The realization of this fact was so humiliating to me and made crystal clear to me where she saw me on the totem pole of life ... WAY BENEATH HER. As hurtful as it was, I knew one thing for sure ... hell would freeze over before I'd ever get her a pack of cigarettes again.There were two other secretaries I worked with in the tr
aining department. Carol was a divorced lady and was old enough to be my mother and was forever warning me about the dangers of dating musicians. Vicky, was divorced as well and was living in her own personal hell. Her ex-husband had kidnapped her children and she hadn't seen them in years. This was before there were laws about kidnapping your own children. These two ladies and I were very close, mainly because we all endured the unending, horrible treatment of our boss, Training Director, Dell Dowdell. I used to refer to him as "Dell Dildo" (behind his back of course). To give you all a visual, Dell was kind of a Rush Limbaugh type with little tiny teeth. He was arrogant and superior. Dildo would hold meetings that were 4 and 5 hours long wherein he would say absolutely nothing. After these excruciatingly long and boring meetings the three of us would exit his office shaking our heads from pain and wondering how the hell someone can yap yap yap for six F-ing hours and say nothing at all. He was also a big proponent of psycho cybernetics. This is basically a philosophy of the power of self-affirmation and mental visualization techniques which used the connection between the mind and the body. Specified techniques to develop a positive inner goal as a means of developing a positive outer goal. This concentration on inner attitudes is essential to his approach, as a person's outer success can never rise above the one visualized internally. It was all just a bunch of bullshit in my opinion because for all his professing and trying to teach this to us in my opinion he was still a fuckin asshole. Evie was our secretarial supervisor and the spawn of Satan. She was a divorced, pretty blond woman in her early 40's and I'm certain was a closet masochist. She once confessed to me that her sister had an affair with her husband. I have no idea what compelled her to tell me such a horribly personal secret ... we were hardly friends, and she basically treated me like crap the entire time I worked there. To take an 18-year-old kid into her confidence completely mystified
me. Evie got a perverse pleasure out of abusing all of us put seemed to get particular joy out of picking on me. At least once a week I was summoned into Dildo's office where Evie would then “write me up” on everything from not being "dress code" and making me go home to change, to any number of meaningless infractions. I hated Evie. I would lay awake at night thinking of ways to kill her. I even entertained the idea of getting one of the guys in the neighborhood to do a drive-by. I know it sounds terrible, but you would feel the same way too if you had to deal with this b*tch every day for a whole year.
Once in a while, to lighten things up in the office, I would get the girls' attention as Evie was bending over a filing cabinet, and I would swing my foot back and forth like I was going to kick her right in her ass.
This would always get the girls laughing hysterically to the point of crying because it is, after all, very difficult to hysterically laugh like that QUIETLY. Evie would turn around, know something was up ... but she could never quite prove anything. And she never caught me.Every day Evie would make me get her lunch. She would come to my desk, stand behind me with her money in her hand and recite her orde
r. This went on for a loooooong time until one day, with all the courage I could summon, I told her that I could not get her lunch because I was working on a super-hot rush for her (You see Evie was super busy herself ... typing Dell Dildo's science fiction novel ... on company time) which is why I did all HER work and brought her lunch every day. But I digress. So, I told her I'd never finish her project if I had to get her lunch, plus it was already late in the day. Evie reassured me that it was okay and gave me "permission" to stop working on HER/OUR rush to go get her lunch. What could I say? ... tell her to get her own god-damn lunch? ... So, I went to get her lunch. The hamburger stand was right across the street but, it was a large boulevard with no light. I had to cross Whittier Boulevard, risking life and limb to get there. Do you know how long it takes to cross the street at 2 pm during rush hour traffic on a big old boulevard waiting for traffic to subside long enough for you to run across the street? It takes a fucking long time! SO, I get to the Orange Julius. I place her order and wait. This was back in the olden days when you had to actually MAKE the hamburger from scratch. Finally, hamburger made, fries made and now all I had to do was cross the boulevard again. When I got back to the office I handed her her lunch, sat at my desk and started working. Two seconds later she's standing behind me whining ... "there's no cheese on this hamburger". Yes ... this vile creature made me go back to the hamburger stand so they could put the cheese on her frickin' hamburger. By the time all of this was accomplished, it was almost time to go home. But then, just because there was enough time left in the day for one more dose of humiliating degradation, she sent me back again "... to check on her Coke?" ... I'd forgotten her drink. Remember that scene in 9 to 5 when Lily Tomlin thinks she put rat poison in the coffee? Don't think I didn't consider it.
FINALLY, after working in this hell hole for over a year, I found another job. I was hired as a receptionist for ,an electrical contracting firm and they were going to pay me $200 more a month! I was soooo happy I practically skipped to work the next day. When I approached Evie to give her the news, she was typing a letter, and I said ... "Evie, I'm giving you my notice. I've found another job." She stiffened up ... just a little, then got her pad and pen ... and cool as a cucumber began with the questions ... "Where will you be working?" I tell her, she writes this down. "And what will your salary be?" ... I WILL NEVER, EVER FORGET THIS AS LONG AS I LIVE ... when I told her that I would be making $200 more a month, I literally saw her facial expression form into a tight little pinch as her sphincter muscles simultaneously clenched and tightened up causing her to rise about an inch in her chair.
I don't know what ever became of Evie after I left the savings and loan. I did wish all sorts of terrible maladies on her, from explosive diarrhea to having all her hair fall out ... but I got over that. Dell "the Dildo" got fired. They caught him ripping off the company to the tune of T.V. sets and all kinds of other audio visual and technical equipment. He was a horrible, prejudiced man. He once fired an African-American woman for gross insubordination ... trust me ... this lady was never grossly insubordinate.
This was when I learned about real prejudice. Shocking, unfiltered, ignorant prejudice. Once, while filming a training video, Mr. Dildo was playing director. I was to be a teller, and Mary was to be a customer. Mary was African-American. Mr. Dildo goes up to his radio-type booth, and walks us through our paces. Then, he comes down and asks us to do it again because Mary looked to the right during filming and when .... get ready ... when a black person looks from left to right all you can see are the whites of their eyes.
YES. HE SAID IT. JUST LIKE THAT. LIKE IT WAS NOTHING. She looked at me. I looked at her. And we both knew our place. He was the boss. He could say things like that and no one would call him on it, or make him answer for it. EVER. What I experienced at this company in 1975, I could sue them for today. Forty years ago the world was a very different place. You could smoke in restaurants, bosses could grab your ass and make lewd remarks, and there was nothing you could do about it. A boss could fire a black employee just because he could, and women were treated really badly. More amazing than all of this is that Dell and Evie probably have no memory whatsoever of me or Vicky or Carol and the horrible way they treated us and made us feel. And yet the memories I have of them are so potent that I'm writing about them all these years later.
This was when I learned about real prejudice. Shocking, unfiltered, ignorant prejudice. Once, while filming a training video, Mr. Dildo was playing director. I was to be a teller, and Mary was to be a customer. Mary was African-American. Mr. Dildo goes up to his radio-type booth, and walks us through our paces. Then, he comes down and asks us to do it again because Mary looked to the right during filming and when .... get ready ... when a black person looks from left to right all you can see are the whites of their eyes.
YES. HE SAID IT. JUST LIKE THAT. LIKE IT WAS NOTHING. She looked at me. I looked at her. And we both knew our place. He was the boss. He could say things like that and no one would call him on it, or make him answer for it. EVER. What I experienced at this company in 1975, I could sue them for today. Forty years ago the world was a very different place. You could smoke in restaurants, bosses could grab your ass and make lewd remarks, and there was nothing you could do about it. A boss could fire a black employee just because he could, and women were treated really badly. More amazing than all of this is that Dell and Evie probably have no memory whatsoever of me or Vicky or Carol and the horrible way they treated us and made us feel. And yet the memories I have of them are so potent that I'm writing about them all these years later.
Hebrews 13:2
Show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.
I cite this scripture, not because I feel that I am anything near an angel, but to say that as we go through life we leave impressions on people. These two were pretty despicable and used their position and power to make life really hell, not so much for me, but for two women who were single parents and needed their jobs worse than I did. And I would guess that Vicky, Carol, and I didn't even register a blip on the radar of life to Dell and Evie. But that's okay ... because Someone far more important does remember.
And one day, they will answer ... to Him .... I just wish I could be there to see it. 
Debbie
ReplyDeleteI teach a class that deals with the experiences of "minorities" in America in a predominantly white school, and it is very hard for most white students to understand the legacy of racial prejudice and tyranny upon people of color and other minorities that was in the very blood stream of this country. After centuries of slavery and constitutionally sanctioned racism, "white" America was (as Thomas Jefferson predicted) an ironic combination of cruelty and tyranny while viewing themselves and "their" country as nothing but "God blessed."
I too can tell you stories of white bosses and supervisors I was under who were living monuments to mediocrity and inept leadership. But the socialization of many whites ingrained them with a sense of entitlement over the world, and they thought they'd be king of the hill forever.
Ironically, predictions of the past that said the "dark and tawny races" would gradually disappear from the earth (unless they figured out how to adapt to the traits of the superior and God-ordained white race) have not only not come true, but global demographics in general and America in particular show that people of color and mixed races are fast becoming the numerical majority even if they are largely still the social minority (i.e., the higher your inspect up the social ladder, the whiter the skin color you'll find -- still, today, throughout all the Americas).
A recent poll showed that 52% of white men said that in America today it now counts against you when seeking employment if you are a white male. And yet, the evidence shows that whites get call-backs for interviews and actually get jobs at twice the rate of blacks; and it doesn't matter if the black person is college educated and clearly qualified; a black-sounding name is enough to disqualify you. So while we have in fact come a long way from 1975, old prejudices die hard.
You are so right that what we say and do to others MATTERS. You'd think that people who claim they and their nation are "Christian" would know this. For all these reasons and more, I have increasingly come to be less and less impressed by what people say they believe (Christians, Muslims, etc.).
I am far more impressed by orthopraxy than mere orthodoxy. So was Jesus (Matthew 25:31-46).
God bless,
Ruben
I suppose we all have those stories, don't we. I won't go into mine simply because I'll take two and a half pages to do it but I can say that although I have felt the result of prejudice, I have probably escaped much of it because I look more European. Even so, I have felt it. There have been times when I sat back and listened to co-workers talk about "Mexicans" until the perfect moment to announce in the sweetest way I possibly could that "I am Mexican". I love the feeling of watching the expression change from one of "my dear friend" to one of "Oh major poop!". Brings joy to my heart. I say don't tell me who and what you believe in, show me.
ReplyDeleteJust stumbled across spacify.com, for the best selection of Childrens Desks
ReplyDeleteI could write a book too not only because people couldn't figure out what nationally I am, but becuse of my girth. People always putting down the Mexican and me quietly listening until I let them know. As far as being the big one....I almost alwalys turning out to be the fav...simply because they got to know me. As we mature or I mature, I simply have no patience or simpathy for shallow people and either ignore them or steer clear of them....btw...my girth is almost gone..lol
ReplyDeleteOMG! I hit the work force in the early 80's right after I graduated high school, but I can still remember the discrimination. I even remember it in high school! Because I was adopted by my stepfather, I had a "white" last name, so I didn't experience it like most other minorities. I also have very light ivory skin, so again, I don't look Mexican. I can't tell you how many times people would talk about "dirty Mexicans" and then I'd come out and say I was Mexican.....they'd fall off their seats! LOL! I remember Archie Bunker being a "must see TV show" in our house back then....my stepfather, although married to my mom who is 100% Mexican, would always say "The only good Mexican is a dead Mexican"....I still hate my stepdad by the way! Have times really changed? Sure, a little, we've come a long way, but we (actually all minorities) are still discriminated against. My 16 year old daughter asked me last night what a "spic" was....evidently someone on YoVille called her that....truth be told, I don't know. Guess I'll look it up. But, discrimination is still alive and well in America! And that's all I have to say about that.....love ya! Corinne
ReplyDeleteDebbie!
ReplyDeleteIt is nice to visit with you! Wow, I know this scenario of which you speak oh so well. It has taken me years to "get over" feeling inferior of mind because I am Mexican. How many of us have unnecessarily gone through that because of what others have said. My dad, who was very light in color would get people complaining to him about "those $#(*&% Mexicans!" I get the same thing too. I have had the pleasure of seeing people's jaw drop to the floor after they have insulted my culture and I nonchalontly say, "I'm Mexican."
Let's hope that the new years to come will bring more understanding and compassion from others and in our own hearts. All we can do is SHOW them how to live. Thanks for coming and also, I am so glad that you enjoy Ruben's blog! He is a good writer, isn't he? Here's seeing more of each other in 2010, Debbie!! Anita
Debbie darlin'! You are so kind and wonderful to have commented such sweet words! Hasn't it been a fun year of blogging? And to think that I am reconnected with you, Marie and Bunny. I wish you much happiness Debbie, and thank you for visiting Ruben. Isn't he smart? :) Your writing darling is excellent. And Ruben has always said that he just loves your posts. I tell you Debbie, I know....I could write a book on the matter.....break down the barriers. Don't let austere and intimidating folks, doors or whatever else prevents you from dreaming and making your dreams come true STOP YOU! I did more than I ever, ever imagined! And after reading your post, I realized that for many years, my feeling like a "dumb Mexican", as many people referred to my kind as, that this stopped me. No stopping me now, however. And you....there is no reason to ever think you can't achieve your goals. I wish you much success, love and joy tonight and every single day of the new year. Party down and stay safe..Anita
ReplyDeleteI am Mexican-American, but I look white: very fair skin, light eyes and hair. I cannot tell you the number of times people's eyeballs have popped out when I tell them I am Mexican-American. One incident comes to mind. I am an RN and for a time worked in Interventional Radiology- a specialty area- in a chi-chi hospital with a great reputation. In this department the nurse works very closely with the specialty physicians in doing procedures so you build a rapport very quickly. After having been in this area for a few months the topic of converstation turned to where I grew up: Pico Rivera. As the doctor continued with the procedure he asked, "Aren't there alot of hispanics there?" My response, "I'm hispanic doctor." He turned around so quickly his neck almost snapped, and he just stared at me, like he was trying to find the Mexican in me... I just smiled. Then questions about where my parents were born, still trying to figure this out. Answer: Texas and Arizona. Then grandparents. Answer: same as above. He was soooo confused. How could this be.. she looks white, parents and grandparents born in the states... hmmmm. And to add to his confusion, I do not speak spanish. What?! How can she possibly be Mexican?? I don't think it ever made sense to him. Of course this is not at all like the horrible treatment you and some of those who commented here have experienced, but I think it is an example of how thinly veiled prejudice can be.
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