Over the weekend, I witnessed something very upsetting; prejudice. I was at a deli with a couple of my friends and I was waiting for my sandwich when a man walks to the counter. His complaint, you might wonder? He said that his grilled cheese was not melted enough. He gave his sandwich to the cook, who obviously had some Spanish-speaking blood in her. After the man handed her the sandwich, he told her to melt it more. She smiled and nodded, but stood where she was, waiting for the man to leave. It was, though, at this moment that the man decided the lady could not speak English. He began to speak louder and louder, until he was yelling for the whole restaurant to hear, “MELT! MELT!” Then, he decided that speaking was futile, so he started smack his hands together, trying to indicate the melting. All the while, the cook just stood, smiling and nodding. When he finally left her line of vision, she immediately went to go and take care of his meal; however, he went to the cashier, asking for someone to speak Spanish because she clearly did not understand.
I was disgusted at this man’s attitude. What, exactly, did he prove? I guess he felt it was necessary to make a show for his girlfriend, or maybe he needed to feel “manly.” Whatever the reason was, he made a false accusation that this woman could not speak English.
How do I know?
When she brought me my order, right after the big blow-up, she said, “Here you go, honey.”
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