I had an irritating racialized moment yesterday. Mr. HM and I were at a shoe store. Normally I don’t go in boutique/specialty shoe shops, being more of a discount/DSW type of shoe buyer, but Mr. HM wanted to look at this place. On the 70% discount rack I found a pair of sandals at a great price and, of all things, in my size (5 1/2) – that combination is a rare sight.
The salesperson who rings up my purchase is an older gentleman, white, Al Bundy-esque. He wants to know my name.
Bundy: And your name is . . ?
Me: Why do you need to know that information? I don’t want to be on a mailing list.
Bundy: Oh! Well, in case you need to return the shoes.
Me: Why does that matter? I’ll have a receipt.
Bundy: Well. . . can I just write in a fake name then?
Me, getting irritated: I don’t care.
Bundy: Okay, how about if I put in Wong, Suzy.
Me, visibly pissed off: NO.
Bundy, flustered: Uh, oh, um, okay how about if I put your name as Mary then.
Bundy, backpedaling furiously: Okay, ma’am, I’ll just put down that you paid in cash, and we SURE ARE pleased to have your business and I SURE HOPE you have a GREAT day.
(Meanwhile, Mr. HM is pacing behind me, worried I’m going to go off on this guy. To his suggestion that he enter my name as Suzy Wong, I SHOULD have responded, "Do I look like a Chinese prostitute to you?" I was thinking it but suffer from an ailment called, "IgnoreRacism-itis," learned over years of being told by my color-blind adoptive parents that racism is all in my own mind).