This morning, I was sitting in a cafe and having my breakfast while tieing up some loose ends on a few projects. As I cut into my omelet, ready to enjoy the next bite I was interrupted by an old man, easily slapping the DNA out of 90, who came into the cafe, looked at the two seats next to me and authoritatively asked me to move my briefcase, no ‘please’ or ‘do you mind’ or ‘would you’ just MOVE. The briefcase even looked at him like he had lost his damn mind. It was resting in the chair next to me so that I could have easy access to it. He was sitting in the chair next to it and he had plenty of room so I asked him “Why?” and he looked at me like I worked for him and had asked for a day off from working the fields during cotton season. His ‘how dare you’ expression needed no explanation upon my further examination of him and the situation.
On the other side of him, a white college student was sitting doing his work and he didn’t ask him to move, so I’m reminded yet anotha day of being a handsome ass Black man in deeze streetz. My initial reaction was to cuss him out. But then I thought about it, compassion (and my OWN middle age) reared its ugly head when I surmised when you get to a point where the highlight of your day is no longer scheduling a fart … but just having the ability to produce one and you have nothing to do, nothing to look forward to and nobody to f#c& (including yourself because of arthritic wrists)… is asking for a little more room to read the paper, the absolute HIGHLIGHT of his day, really a lot to ask? So I acquiesced, giving grandpa his additional space and realizing upon looking at him, if any of us are lucky enough to get that damn old, this may be us one day. To that end, I’m taking the rest of the damn day OFF, Lawd I gotta do some more livin’ I realized this old man was not the question he was the ANSWER. To all my entrepreneurs working like madmen and women, you’ve been warned LIVE or THIS may be you in 20, 30 or even the next 2 years.