Jumping Mexicans and Gun Tooting Jamaicans
I'm itching to delete my last blog. For one, there are no links and for two, it feels forced as I have been slacking in the blogging department.
But time is passing and I need to add an entry. So here is a doozie:
On one of my first days at work, I was asked to call applicants for the factory part of Saxon's. The company is in a predominantly East Indian community and that is who apply for the factory work. East Indian women. They are paid minimum wage hourly. Many can't speak English and don't have much experience so most take factory work.
As I went through the application something strange had continually popped up. Many of the applicant's last names were Patel. There were so many that it couldn't have been just a coincidence, it couldn't be the same people applying again and again, and they possibly couldn't be all related. I was told by Drew that Patel is a really common last name. Like Smith. I was shocked and disappointed for my friend Lalita (sorry babe!)
2 weekends ago was my friend Dave's birthday. The night consisted of going to a Mexican restaurant called El Jacalito in the west end of the city. I wasn't sure what to expect as I had been told there was a "show" as well. I entered a dark basement into a darkly lit room with colourful tacky decorations. The dinner was a buffet (killer fried rice with plantine...mmmmm) and then the "show" started. There were dances from certain parts of Latin America, followed by an honest to goodness Mariachi band. To make the crowd feel like part of the show, they made all the birthday people get up on the dance floor to learn a dance. Dave bravely went up and to his shock, dismay and horror, he was the only male. Imagine, a gay man surrounded by straight women. What a trooper!
They danced a simple choreographed dance to "La Cucaracha" starting off slow and going faster and faster (kinda like the chicken dance). Then as a prize the birthday people got a small cake with a candle in it. We all sang something in Spanish and they blew out their candles. Afterwards, we headed down to O'Grady's for some drinks. Ole!!!
Then today as I headed to Monday night volleyball I got into a cab and the cabbie began to make small talk. His small talk consisted of informing me that the recent increase in gun violence was due to the "fucked up Jamaicans" who were unlike the Anglo Saxons (and the Chinese apparently) who had 1000 of years with the mentality of playing the game and taking care of each other. Apparently the Jamaicans have had only a few hundred years of civilization and they need a lot of catching up to do. Also, the fact that Jamaicans all come from broken homes is part of the problem. Let me tell you dear reader, if I were not in such a rush I would have argued with the man. That or opened the door while the vehicle was moving and jumped out.
A bit of a wake up call.
But time is passing and I need to add an entry. So here is a doozie:
On one of my first days at work, I was asked to call applicants for the factory part of Saxon's. The company is in a predominantly East Indian community and that is who apply for the factory work. East Indian women. They are paid minimum wage hourly. Many can't speak English and don't have much experience so most take factory work.
As I went through the application something strange had continually popped up. Many of the applicant's last names were Patel. There were so many that it couldn't have been just a coincidence, it couldn't be the same people applying again and again, and they possibly couldn't be all related. I was told by Drew that Patel is a really common last name. Like Smith. I was shocked and disappointed for my friend Lalita (sorry babe!)
2 weekends ago was my friend Dave's birthday. The night consisted of going to a Mexican restaurant called El Jacalito in the west end of the city. I wasn't sure what to expect as I had been told there was a "show" as well. I entered a dark basement into a darkly lit room with colourful tacky decorations. The dinner was a buffet (killer fried rice with plantine...mmmmm) and then the "show" started. There were dances from certain parts of Latin America, followed by an honest to goodness Mariachi band. To make the crowd feel like part of the show, they made all the birthday people get up on the dance floor to learn a dance. Dave bravely went up and to his shock, dismay and horror, he was the only male. Imagine, a gay man surrounded by straight women. What a trooper!
They danced a simple choreographed dance to "La Cucaracha" starting off slow and going faster and faster (kinda like the chicken dance). Then as a prize the birthday people got a small cake with a candle in it. We all sang something in Spanish and they blew out their candles. Afterwards, we headed down to O'Grady's for some drinks. Ole!!!
Then today as I headed to Monday night volleyball I got into a cab and the cabbie began to make small talk. His small talk consisted of informing me that the recent increase in gun violence was due to the "fucked up Jamaicans" who were unlike the Anglo Saxons (and the Chinese apparently) who had 1000 of years with the mentality of playing the game and taking care of each other. Apparently the Jamaicans have had only a few hundred years of civilization and they need a lot of catching up to do. Also, the fact that Jamaicans all come from broken homes is part of the problem. Let me tell you dear reader, if I were not in such a rush I would have argued with the man. That or opened the door while the vehicle was moving and jumped out.
A bit of a wake up call.
1 Comments:
It's too bad all our best policy makers are too busy driving cabs to get into the legislature.
Post a Comment
<< Home