Fukk the Po-lice Fukk tha Po-lice FUCK!
F'REAL! And i can spell it Pha-rell cuz it's the truth!
It was a dark and stormy Friday night. Jill was hyper-active, Kim was giddy, and Cindy was...slutty and stupid.
The two rent-a-cops came in, tall, blonde, flashing their bleached-out brick hard teeth. "Where's the manager?"
We look for Jill, and it's a big fukkin fiasco until we find her. A fiasco that ends up with Jill, Kim, and Cindy surrounding the Cops and giggling like geisha girls, fanning themselves and fawing over the big, white, sexy white men--in uniforms, no less!. Gag me with a badge and a gun. They're all blushing like 6 year old boys who just saw their sister's tits.
Anyways. The Cops suck ass, and they suck it hard like they love it. They repeatedly leave the store, hanging out in Chapters or Allah-knows-where. Cindy disappers during a rush of customers to find them. She comes back blushing and gushing "They're so great". She tells me how they're making fun of the customers....especially Robert's big fat gay friend who pisses me off all the time. Apprently they're poking fun at his intelligence and sexuality.
"That's horrible, Cindy" I say.
"It's okay. They're doing it really subtlely....he has no idead what's going on" she retorts.
I squish my face in contradictory thoughts. I mean, I hate the guy too...but does he really need to be treated like that? And by Cops? Sure, I'm rude to the guy...but I never make fun of him to his face. Something about the whole deal rubs me the wrong way, but I let it go, instead concentrating my frustrations on the fact that Cindy left during a fukkin rush.
But whatever, I do some deep breathing to calm myself down, and continue about doing my job. I'm making drinks, sliding to cash, stocking milk, an alla dat good stuff. Things are getting cleaned in a flurry of movement I can only assume is Jill speed-walking her way through life. Eventually she goes on break.
"Where are the Cops??" she begs.
"In Chapters?" Cindy answers, unconvincingly. "Do you want me to go find them?"
Cindy leaves to find the Pigs, and Jill hops on bar with me. Keep in mind, Jill is on break, hence shouldn't be on the floor, and also, I have only one drink to make. "Why are you pulling me shots?" I ask. "It's okay, Jill, I don't need your help. Aren't you on break?"
"Yes," she answers, and continues to pull shots for me.
A huge rush of cutomers (read: thuggy looking teenagers) appears, and the Cops miraculously and heroicly appear from the Chapter's washrooms to save us. They might as well have been dressed in shining armour, mounted atop two virgin-white steeds. (WARNING: The preceeding sentence is soaked in sarcasm, digest at own risk.) They go through our line-up saying "are you buying a drink?? GET OUT!" and continue until all our customers are gone. This also rubs me the wrong way, but I assume I am overreacting. "...Whatever..." I tell myself.
The night goes one, people are getting frantic. Cindy is getting more and more giddy: "They're so awesome!" she blurts. Kim is getting ecstatic: "Whee! They're giving the kids tickets!!!". And Jill is running around with a frown on her face. I am assuming something other than her repressed sexuality is bothering her. I hear vague whispers of rumors of something like a fight. A fight outside? It looks fine to me.
A line-up develops, a back-of-the-busload of black kids saunter and swagger into the store. Speaking loudly in hip-hop and patois, they form a line from cash to the merch wall. Cindy and Kim stand there looking flabbergasted, until Kim blurts out "Where are the cops???"
Where are the cops??? You have a line-up of customers!!
Serve the Cotdamn customers!!! So instead of asking the kids what they would like to drink today, and would they like any pastries to go with it, they serve silently and slowly, waiting for the cops to come.
Eventually the Pigs show up, and kick everyone out. I am making a caramel frappucino for some dude. Cindy says "Don't make it until this is authorized", pointing to the debit machine. As if the kid has no money. Do we make this assumption for all customers? Whatever.
I'm making his frap when the cops come, give him a hard shoulder-butt, and ask him to leave. He tells them he's waiting for a drink, and can they please leave him alone cuz he's on his cellphone. The cops don't like this, tell him to getout, I meekly say "hey guys, he ordered a drink". I bend my neck down to whip-cream his frap, and by the time I look up, the kid is gone.
Apparently, outside, he gets angry and fights with the cops. The kid gets arrested.
For doing nothing, except waiting for his drink, and refusing to hang-up his cell phone before he's done his business.
Everyone is happy, expecially Jill. Jill and I debate the issue of Friday-Night Kids, and she reassures me "Hey, I know they're not *all* bad, I'm no discriminating." I nod my head, acknowleding her first valid point. Until she adds "Like the filipinos...I know they only *look* bad".
And that should pretty much read "They only *look* BLACK".
To add some atmosphere to this tale, imagine a bunch of rich yuppie regular customers, sitting on the comfy sofa chairs, or outside in their SUV's, enjoying the show as if it they were watching COPS, munching on tufts of muffins as if they were popcorn kernels, sipping lattes like us racialized plebians drink jumbo sodas.
And that, right there ladies and gentlemen, is your cue to barf in disgust.
Effa everythang.
peace,
-J.