Of Course It's the White Lady

I went out to dinner in L.A. with a friend this week. My friend, Christy, is pigmentally impaired...she's White. We dined at a restaurant that just happens to also employ my husband as a manager in Chicago. When Christy and I arrived the hostess immediately found our reservation, which had a notation that "Inda Galvan" was the wife of Chicago manager. The wine captain/manager -- let's call her "Angela" because I honestly don't remember her name -- quickly greeted us. It is relevant to note that Angela is White. Angela asked which one of us was married to the Chicago manager. I fessed up, she took us to our table, and our server greeted us. Let's call him "Mark" because that really was his name. Mark, who is also White, asked which one of us was married to the Chicago manager. He didn't assume. Why would he? He just asked. Why wouldn't he?

The service was great, the food was fantastic.

So why blog? Well, my people... my people. A few minutes into our wonderful experience, the Black floor manager came over to the table -- let's call him "Negro Please" because, well, that's what I found myself wanting to say to him all night. Negro Please took one look at me & Christy and immediately decided that Christy was the manager's wife. He never asked. He just assumed. And all night Negro Please went out of his way to kiss up to Christy. At one point Negro Please brought Christy's cocktail to the table and asked if it was "just like home." All night Negro Please embarrassed himself by shucking and jiving for Christy. For the White lady.

Christy asked me if we should tell him. Maybe we should have let Negro Please know early on that his assumption was incorrect. But I didn't want to. I wanted to see just how long and how far Negro Please would go with his ignorance.

And it went on all night. He made it quite clear why he was doing what he was doing. And it just got better and better (or worse and worse, depending on your perspective) as the night went on. Despite the facts, his assumption was deeply set. I was dressed quite well, had the new hair on and it was working. I speak well (for a Negress). And I looked perfectly comfortable in a fine-dining restaurant. But, I'm a Black woman. And Christy is a White woman. So of course the manager's wife, in Negro Please's mind, would be Christy, right? Negro, please.

- Inda