Dining hall employee, the Chronicles 2: Manager caught red-handed by Brown man!

My last shift in Dhall was revealing in terms of power relations in society. 
Nah, screw that! it was weird. 
First it is my Saturday night shift, until 10 pm! It is a shift that is intrinsically painful on my senses. No telling that more extraneous elements that could make it even better, are welcome. 
And of course there was extraneous elements that made it better.  
One fellow proletarian employee (of a higher rank nevertheless) was being so extreme about the timely provision of lettuce. I was already at another task so when I finally attended to it I had to ask" are you mad at me?". My fellow class comrade affirmed to me that it was necessary that "we did what we supposed to do". A fellow worker then proceeded that I could be stabbed if I was in a relationship with a Latin-American and I refused to wash the dishes. I did not really understand how the "Lettuce situation" could amount to such a stereotype being validated. Seeing the approving look on the rest of the company I guess there was one... Somehow. O maybe not. 
Wait! 
Now comes the part, where, as a brown man (this fact is not related to the kind of tasks I persistently got for the last 3 weeks) I was cleaning tables. I looked back. There, hidden between the cereals and the pole, the highest ranking manager présente was looking. In a perfect spy-movie position, ready to catch me red handed not cleaning the tables like a brown man has to do for 3 weeks straight (last fact not even closely related to the story). And I have to confess, I was nasty: I did not avoid the awkward situation, I embraced it. I looked at my leader straight in the eyes! 
That was not very smart indeed. Because, as a proletarian soldier of dhall, I had to enjoy the overwhelming visits, past all ranks, of my beloved manager. I cannot describe my pleasure at hearing these numerous phrases filled with imperative verbs: 
"-You gotta pick up your paste and clean the red side" 
"-I did already." 
"-Well, then you have to pick up your paste."
"-..." 
LeBounce
Dining hall employee, the Chronicles 1: Of potatoes, black outcasts and knives.
(all opinions, facts and characters presented in the previous text are purely the result of the authors imagination. They have no factual or real implication or source. That said, I love Dhall and I do wanna keep my job: skidmore dining hall is clean, so far racist free and delicious food is its product)  

Dining hall employee, the Chronicles 1: Of potatoes, black outcasts and knives

Today I had to cut potatoes, for 2 hours. It is amazing how the feeling of time and the entire feeling of consciousnesses is irreparably altered during 2 hours of potatoes. In fact one gets the rare chance to approach the realm of eternity and infinity: In short, 2 hours feel like forever, literally.
Regardless, there is some benefits to being a kitchen employee cutting potatoes. One gets to meditate! For after 15 min the brain undergoes this formidable operation of separating between the auto mode (cutting potatoes) and the hyper thoughtful mode. Also one get to contemplate the "human condition" in different aspects that are all too rare in an off-work situation.
It is amazing to consider the sheer number of people who can/do supervise, guide and plainly boss me around through the seemingly mechanical potato cutting. In fact one gets bossed around so much that it almost bruises even the healthiest and toughest egos!
A conversation that I had with a supervisor about potatoes is, in tern, worthy of contemplation:
-Supervisor:" When you find the black ones, THROW THEM AWAY!" then slams a potato in bin.
-me:" That is racist" supervisor looks up at me, realizes I have "color"
-Supervisor:"That is true actually..."
Only my breaking into laughter liberated my nice fellow supervisor from his agony.
D Hall, Gotta love it.
Lebounce
(all opinions, facts and characters presented in the previous text are purely the result of the authors imagination. They have no factual or real implication or source. That said, I love Dhall and I do wanna keep my job: skidmore dining hall is clean, so far racist free and delicious food is its product)