- Oct 9, 1999
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I know, well, the full way he said it was what bothered me - "come back in a bit and we'll work it out" sorta deal, like he wanted us to leave to avoid any drama for some biscotti in exchange for our dignity. I know he meant well, but at the moment it came off as hush money (and I felt that we had a right to finish our drinks and the interview, not leave)
I was with you, OP, but Exophase's explanation of why the manager offered to comp you some goodies is the better, saner, more objective one. It's the one best tool that they have.
The place was packed. The ignorant old biddy had a straight up right to sit at "your" table. Maybe a more accommodating person would have honored your request by getting up and shuffling off in search of another of the very few seats that were open . . . where the people sitting at them wouldn't try, for whatever reason, to exclude her.
Hey, she probably was racist! But you played a part in this by trying to claim a public table as your personal preserve. No matter how reasonable you think your request was, the place was crowded, she was old, kranky and tired, and didn't respond politely. That was your clue to shine it on.
You were the fully functioning adult in this.
The manager just wanted to keep a stupid spat from escalating and upsetting his entire crowded room. He wasn't about to ask that old coot to move, which he didn't have the right to do, and which you know and he knew would end poorly.
And he wasn't there and didn't know who had said what, and he wasn't about to drop everything and launch an investigation.
So . . . he offered you some comps. From your perspective, he didn't adequately assuage your outraged sense of personal affront. You seriously need to let that go.
Look, I'm Anglo white and at least understand that we, for the most part, never had to go through life enduring demeaning, even threatening bigotry from strangers based solely on the color of our skin.
So I'm not unsympathetic to the buttons this pushed for you and your wife.
Just . . . don't let whatever unfair shite you've experienced in the past make you a less flexible adult in a world that desperately needs flexible, intelligent, well-mannered adults.
The modern "urban warrior" doesn't carry a Glock or a katana, he carries a good attitude.