Scene One
In a long line-up at TV/Cable company service office.
Cast of characters:
Me, middle-aged, white woman with World Policeman complex.
In front: Twenty-something South Asian couple with child
Behind: Middle-aged pot-bellied man
Behind PB Man: Middle-aged white woman with penetrating voice
Me, engrossed in fashion/food magazine, waiting to return cable modem not even my own, overhears…
Ms. Penetrating Voice: Yea, I called them to make an appointment and they said somebody’d be there between 1 and 3 so of course nobody showed up even though I waited until a quarter after and then left the house cause they never come when they say they will. So now I hafta waste my time standing here when I gotta lotta other better things to do.
Pot-bellied Man: Nope, you just can’t get good customer service anymore, can you?
Me (to myself): That’s funny. In 15 years of dealing with this company, I’ve always thought their service was top-notch.
Ms. PV: Ya know, ya call these so-called customer service centres and ya end up talkin’ to people who can’t even speak English.
PB Man: Yes Ma’am, that’s the truth. Things sure aren’t like they used to be.
Ms. PV: No matter where ya go, ya just get more and more of ‘em. They work cheap but they can’t even speak English properly.
PB Man: Hah! Even when I call the credit card company I end up talking to India.
South Asian twenty-something man flexes heavily-tattooed bicep.
Ms. PV: And they got the taxicab companies all wrapped up, don’t they! Mind you, I’m not sayin’ what they are, but we all know what they are.
PB Man: Mmmm.
Twenty-something man mutters to his companion, clearly irked.
Ms. PV: Yup, I was gonna take a cab home after I had to go to the hospital the other night and when I told the driver where I wanted to go, he says to me…..
Me, heart racing, wonders how long PV Woman is going to rant on before somebody (me??) calls her on her behaviour.
Ms. PV::…. ‘Cash only’. What the hell??? I says. How can they get away with that? So I had to walk home.
PB Man: (unresponsive, shuffles feet)
Ms. PV: Blah, blah, blah, people come here blah blah blah these companies can’t even do their own shit – they just farm it out blah blah blah can’t even speak the language properly blah blah blah
PB Man now completely ignoring PV Woman. South Asian twenty-something turns to glare in PV’s direction. Me, astounded by how blithely some people reveal their bigotry, wishing I could come up with just the right thing to simultaneously deflate and educate Ms. PV . Saved from my dilemma by efficiency of cable company customer service in the form of lovely South Asian staff member speaking perfect English.
Scene Two
Forty minutes later, in a long line-up at Costco, gargantuan wholesale supermarket.
Cast of Characters:
Me
At left, young English-speaking couple with blond toddler in shopping cart.
At right, young Mandarin/Cantonese-speaking (how would I know, really) couple with dark-haired slightly younger toddler in shopping cart.
Blond Boy (loudly): Mommy! Mommy! Look! A baby!!
Dark-haired toddler looks around, spots Blond Boy, face lights up.
Blond Boy (waving): See, Mommy? Over there! It’s a baby!!!
Dark-haired boy smiles toothily, waves back.
Blond Boy (bouncing in his seat): Hi, Baby!! Hi, Baby!!
Toddlers beam happily, waving energetically at each other. Indulgent parents smile. Me, unloading the two items I came to buy, and the fourteen others I didn’t, thinking how nice it would be if nobody ever pointed out to these two the differences that they care not a whit about – not yet, at least.
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