Today an old Russian man had a sample of coffee provided by myself as this is my day job. He was old, weathered and spotted, hunched over a cane a radiating a slow pleasantness.
He liked the beverage and asked if he could have a can instead of a sample. I said I would but I can’t and to this he replied, “Oh, you are slave. A good slave but you are not an owner.”
The words in themselves were offensive but his compassionate and understanding tone immediately dissipated the image of a cotton picking negroid from my brain. And I began to think…wow I really am a slave.
He recognized my contemplation and said, “You may be a slave now but I meet many people who work jobs like this and in time they become very rich, I know this and I wish this for you.” He said, “I can tell this can happen for you.” and it all felt very true…