Contrast and Maybe a Little Whiplash

Baltimore Harbor, March 2015

Ellen wrote a great post about the difference between poverty or oppression and poverty AND oppression all stimulated by the current issues in one of my favorite love/hate cities, Baltimore.  While I knew this, I must admit I never really thought about it as carefully as I should have.  But to jerk me around and muddy the clarity, this little incident below happened yesterday.

I was shopping for clothes for my upcoming France trip.  I still flinch when I write something like this as it seems like bragging.  Anyway, I wanted some dressier slacks or jeans and after hitting Bloomingdale's where the jeans started at $160.00 I moved on to another store.  I could have afforded these, but I would have been sick with regret every time I put them on.

I next went to Lord and Taylor for some type of cruise-wear and prices were pretty much the same, so I put out $60 for some diaphanous top that will both hide my fat waist and be cool on warmer afternoons.  Almost everything I looked at and much of what I bought was made in another country, but I managed to find a couple of pairs of Capri pants and another top.

While waiting to check out, hubby sat on a bench behind and against some dresses working his email on his phone.  There was a well-dressed 40-something black woman sitting next to him.  She was talking in a clear but not loud voice to the register clerk (the one I was waiting for as well) about how she was a "very busy" person and needed to get her tailored items and could NOT wait any longer.  The clerk (also dark-skinned but with an accent from the middle-East) was explaining that she worked in cosmetics and did not know where the clothing clerk was or where tailored items were kept for pick-up.  She said she would call the manager and headed back to the counter.

"I just don't have time for this, I am a Doctor."  The black woman called after her.

I stood waiting until the floor manager was summoned by phone and then the clerk proceeded to check out my items.  While this was being done, the store manager, also black, came up and was directed to the lady who once again, looking up from her phone, explained how precious her time was.  He hurried off to find her items.

After a somewhat convoluted process (the more expensive stores have the worst check-out procedures as there is some stupid security tag on every item) I got my items paid for and turned back to hubby.

The black Doctor smiled at me and once again apologized (to us this time) for being so demanding, but her time was precious.  I commiserated and then added something about how there were too few store clerks and the check-out process was too complicated.  I explained we lived an hour and a half away and tried to complete all our shopping on those rare afternoons two or three times a year.

As I gathered up the bags at my husband's feet and hubby shut down his phone, the Doctor proceeded to ask where we were from and we told her and she said she 'loved' that area and then mentioned the suburb outside the city where she lived and dropped the name of the hospital where she practiced medicine.  "I am a Doctor."

This all took an even weirder turn when she told us it was much better shopping at Nordstrom because they gave you 'points' that you could apply to purchases, or on your bill, or online shopping.  She felt it was much better to buy from them and then proceeded to show us an email she just got from Nordstrom where she had purchased some black HIGH heels recently and wanted to know if they had them in red.  The store sent a picture of the red shoes but explained they were .5 inches shorter and as she showed us the picture comparing the two types of HIGH heels she proceeded to explain that by spending $1,000 on this first pair and another $1,000 on the second pair she would get $100 in points to apply to her account!  I bit my tongue, smiled and wished her luck.  (The only things I own at that price point are appliances.)

She wished us a safe drive back home as we also wished her in turn.

(What goes around, comes around...or I have no idea what I am trying to say in writing this post.  But to prove that it is far more complicated than we can every know...here is an article from another African-American doctor.)