goes to some cool hipster spot with white servers and bartenders. it’s in that newly gentrified area. notices brown and black busboys wiping away the dirt and dishwashers in the back scraping off every privileged person’s plate into the trash. orders a dish with an Indian name i don’t know. the server tells me he doesn’t know what it means, either, but it’s “so good.” I order it and he brings me ketchup and salt. enjoys my meal while overhearing privileged talks about wanting to work out of boredom but not survival. server never comes to check on me, but I appreciate his willingness to stay out of the way. leaves table at the end of meal, and tips above the 20 percent norm to thank white server for not seeing color during my stay. notices white customer at the table next to me not tipping to prove a point that he deserved to be treated better. he storms out and server seems worried. he didn’t do enough to show favor to his other white customer, he failed at showing favor, superiority, supremacy. not getting tipped by his fellow white cohort hurt him more than getting tipped by his black customer gave him joy.
quick observation. 3/1/17