Promotions, houses, and racism.

So...that kind of maybe promotion? Now it's a real promotion. With a raise. You guys, I am making a salary that is ABOVE THE POVERTY LINE. Can we just talk about how awesome that feels? I am actually contributing to our household again. Without revealing too much information, this increases my monthly income by 1/3. That is a pretty big raise. 

Unfortunately, this also means that I no longer qualify for a bunch of state-funded programs that I keep saying I am going to use and never do. But, dammit, I am getting that free teeth cleaning before my salary kicks in if it kills me. If only this promotion came with health insurance...

Anyway. I got side tracked. Seeing as how unstructured my work is, my new promotion is equally as unstructured. The owner has been trying to hire a marketing person for months to no avail. He just wants someone to coordinate all events at the restaurant, so now that is my job! I am not going to actually do any marketing because I have no idea how to market things. But, I am going to do all the food, coordinate all the events, and execute everything. I may or may not do a little marketing, but that is way down the road. I start May 21st, which is oddly enough, the date of the mead dinner I am coordinating.

This is a ton of responsibility and I am honored. And I am approaching this with a very can do attitude because  otherwise you will all yell at me. Because you're right and I'm wrong. I'm not just saying that. I mean it.

***

We had a somewhat final meeting with the current homeowner which has left me confident that this is happening. Holy. Shit.

***

Something happened to day at work that REALLY upset me. Our dishwasher during the day is schizophrenic, but medicated. He is in his forties, has 3 kids who he doesn't see, and lives with his grandmother. He is a nice guy that will do anything for anyone. He is also black. And he may or may not indulge in some recreational drugs now and then.

Today, I watched him get cuffed as he was taking out our recycling because someone reported an armed robbery in the area and described a "slender black man" as the suspect. We ran across the street and told the police officers that he was with us all day working and that this man would never hurt a fly. He does not own a gun. He has never owned a gun. He makes an honest living and takes care of his grandmother. Yes, he is mentally ill. But, being black and not quite all there does not a crime make.

I may or may not have called the cops racist dicks. To their faces. Yes, he was in a T-shirt and jeans, because he was at work. Where he washes dishes. And gets dirty. Yes, he could not sufficiently explain where he was that day. I do actually get that part. But, that was after you saw a black man crossing the street that fit your extremely convincing witness statement. Something tells me that doesn't warrant THREE COP CARS. Or cuffing an innocent man for no reason.

We got back to the restaurant and he was so embarrassed. I wanted to hug him. 

All three cops were white. And I was ashamed for them.