Affirmative racial profiling?

You tell me.

I am not generally a big fan of fast food, but I do every now and than drive through and get some Taco Bell fare.  Clearly not really Mexican - or even as close as Chipotle gets - but as a vegetarian, the options aren't too bad.  For fast food at least.

I mention the drive through as that is generally what I can manage, particularly in these dog days of summer.  So on top of the questionable content of the 'food', there is the added layer of bad karma I might generate for not even going inside, using those extra ounces of petrol idling, etc.  I can be a rather harsh self-judge.

Now, I have always been quite impressed with the person who takes my order, and then at the window fills it.  Admittedly, s/he did not have to prepare all the food items, mainly needing only to fill a cup with water or soda, ask whether I would like any sauce (yes please, 'fire'), fill the bag with my one or two items, napkins, sauce packets, a straw.  Which is all rather prosaic, or mundane, any sorry sack of a teenager could manage it.  Perhaps even I could.

But wait, here is the heroic part:  while they are occupied physically filling my order, they are talking into their headsets to the next customer, saying things like 'welcome to Taco Bell', or 'is it correct on the screen?'  Or, if dealing with difficult customers like me, having to write 'taco: substitute beans for meat', or who knows what kind of other special orders they get.  Then have it ready soon after I drive up to the window, and take my payment, often a credit card, but otherwise count out the change.  It has long fascinated me that a person can do this so seamlessly, and only rarely mess up the order.  And since having to deal now with cognitive loss due to MS (and perhaps MA, middle age), I'm even more impressed.  Meanwhile, these super heroes earn a hunger wage of the minimum or I hope something more.

Now, ladies and gentlemen of the jury I wish to present to you my feeble attempts at social engineering to address the apparent (to me at least) injustice of workers earning such a (likely) low wage for such (to me at least) a challenging job.  (Please note the three parenthetic qualifiers in that last sentence.)  I tried offering a tip, but was told they can't take tips.  My response?  I would just hand it to them, saying it a 'gift' or 'a little something for you.'  So far so good, you perhaps might agree.  However, the reality of ethnic, gender, and racial politics will now raise its ugly head.

While I'm engaged in this tiny, possibly laughable, attempt of narrowing the enormous American wealth gap, it occurs to me that some gender and ethnic/racial groups are in even greater need of such intervention.  How about that woman, maybe she is a mother or pregnant?  (In general there is a strong correlation between the two, that is, being female, and...what's that, you got it?)  Or, even if not, she faces an economy which pays her on average 70% of what a man would earn for the same work.   Or, take that African American young man?  He faces far more obstacles in finding gainful employment.  Even a white ex-convict has better chances of getting called back for an interview than he, according to studies cited in my earlier blog post titled 'Dharma Brothers' about my experience teaching meditation at the DC jail.  (I have since begun teaching at the Arlington Co. jail.)  To say nothing of the perils of life in a country that almost criminalizes 'driving while black', or congregating 'menacingly' on street corners while non-white.  Or, while smoking weed at the same rate as white Americans, but getting busted almost four times as often.  (If you find this figure hard to believe, you can check out this article at http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/06/04/race-marijuana/2389677/
While some may consider USA Today to be an ultra liberal publication, this widely documented and unfair treatment of blacks and other minorities results in prisons hugely over populated by non-whites, earning the criminal justice system's moniker of the 'new Jim Crow.'  And the non-white woman?  I can only imagine the obstacles she faces, particularly if she is a mother.

Or NOT, as my wife - who is African American (which I mention only to give her opinion some wider cred than if she were 'white-privileged' like me) - has pointed out to me as I have described my little 'system' to her.  That is, just by knowing somebody's race or ethnicity or gender can I have the least bit of knowledge what they face?  Their own individual history?  Of course not, I am dealing here in generalities, much as an affirmative action program might attempt to address the legacy of centuries of slavery, terrorism (the KKK, for example), segregation, substandard or so called 'separate but [not]-equal' schools, etc.  Or, on the darker side of things, racial profiling by law enforcement based upon little more than stereotypes - and fear - of 'the other.'  I would put my efforts more in line with the affirmative action, but the message I send might feel a bit more like a benevolent racial profiling.

For a short time I followed the metric of a dollar for the white employee, 2 for the white woman, three for the man of color, and four for the woman of color.  Which usually meant that my 'non-tip' was more than my tab.  After a short while this seemed to possibly send a potentially negative message.  Especially if the employees ever mentioned among themselves the odd fellow who 'tips', and how much.  Such as, 'what, he gave you that much?  That jerk only gave me....'  So now, I tip each employee 2 dollars, regardless of grouping, my short term dalliance with the race/ethnic/gender questions now over.  Bottom line, if you work at Taco Bell, you need it.

But, may I ask the one or two of 'my followers' who have soldiered on all this way, just how far-fetched this exercise has been?  Much ado about very little, to be sure.  But on principle, had it any merit in your opinion?

Lullaby

Remember when we lay together

drifting off to sleep,

you always fell asleep first?

You might share a sleepy thought:

as in, “the flower is dancing,” maybe?

Then, holding your hand,

a twitch, a tug, or a startle,

perhaps one more,

and gently you’d melt into dreamland.

Leaving me, eventually, to follow.

Or now, sometimes, to insomnia,

something I couldn't understand then.

Sleep came easily to me, if not instant, like yours.  

A friend might mention

hours awake from 3 to 5 a.m.

What was that about? I’d wonder glibly.

Just sit up and read, or meditate, 

or even masturbate:  carpe noctem.

But now the metastatic cancer, 

this ‘carcinomatous meningitis:’

you’re so very tired, so sleepy all the time.

I sit here holding your hand while

you doze in the hospital bed,

more twitches, more sleepy thoughts.

This love, this life, this loss,

what is this all about?

Sitting here, I meditate – no, I resist: why here, why now?

Don’t leave me and our three boys

to this insomnia, this carcinomatous sadness,

to linger here in this endless moment.

But, if you go, hear me:

we will always love and cherish you,

you charmed and delicate dancing flower.

You will return to God, back into us;

you may wake up, and find, 

that this bit of stardust

that seemed such an

important and unique and beautiful you;

we all felt it, we all still do. 

You may wake from this dream dust,

for breathing you back in God must,

and come back home.

Just as these tears,

falling from these eyes,

will return to the clouds they fell from.