Nando & The Security Guard

Yesterday morning I was sitting in front of my computer at work wondering why I haven't written my friends about my exciting and glamorous life here in New York. I thought, "could it be that life's boring? Am I missing out on things and I'm just not receptive to new adventures?"

The day went on, and as I went for my usual sprout, chick peas, mushroom, with lite olive oil salad, it happened.  I walked back into my work building, past the security station, and as I approached the elevators, I heard, "Yo! Come back here!" I thought to myself, who is she talking to?" Just out of curiousity, I turned back and the lady security guard and she points in my direction and exclaims, "Come back here and sign in!"

As I walked in amazement towards her, I began asking myself several questions. "Does she know who I am?", "What the hell is wrong with this old bat?" "How much blue eye shadow and mascara can one 65 year old red headed female security guard wear?"

Before I reached her, I asked her out loud, "Are you talking to me?" And she pointed in a circular motion and said, "Yeah, all you delivery boys have to sign in!!!"

I felt a heat flush all over my body. Not the good heat, like when you are about to have sexual relations in a semi-public place near a centralized water fountain, but the kind of heat you feel when someone violates your spirit in such a way that you loose control and your body begins to shake from humiliation, anger, and disgust.

I walked over to her and I said, "Just because I'm MEXICAN and I'm carrying MY lunch, doesn't make me a delivery boy!" And I walked away from her. She began to yell, "That's not what I meant you MORON!" I managed to jump into the next elevator, along with 2 delivery boys who were ALSO angry at her.

I stopped to think, "I don't look like a delivery boy. I'm not dressed like a delivery boy, and I don't act like a delivery boy." But I came back to, "why are THEY mad at her?" So I asked them, and they said, "we are mad because you are not a delivery boy, you are better than us. Why did she stop you?"

Then it hit me. "You are better than us?" I stood there in their words and thought, "I'm not better than them. I'm just doing my job like they are. There is no shame in being a 3rd world refugee delivery boy. I looked at them and said, "man, we are all the same, and don't you ever forget it!" I stepped out of the elevator and walked to my desk. And one of them followed me. I thought, wow! I made a difference in his life. Surely he's coming to ask for my number so I can continue giving him life altering messages. I can  continue affirming him as an equal.  I can.... move out of his way because he  was here to deliver lunch to my BOSS who decided to tip him 1 dollar for his services.

I did call the management company and complained about "Old Blue Eyes" and I was informed that because she was in the union, nothing could be done. Her manager would have a talk with her but that's all that would happen.

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Friends....the moral of the story is, tip your delivery boy good, if not...you might get an extra flavor in your next coffee order....Oh Yeah...and join a union!