I saw Young Mr. Whitefolks recently and he was a little confused about why it was so difficult to order a meal to his home.
“I looked up restaurants that Grub Hub said deliver to my neighborhood but when I call to place an order they tell me that they don’t deliver to my address.”
“Does that surprise you?” I asked.
“Yes---if the restaurants don’t want to deliver to my neighborhood they should just say so.”
God, I just love this kid.
He further stated, “Why don’t they just say that they won’t deliver to 35th & King?”
Welcome to being black, dearest. Rather I should say, welcome to living with blacks, baby. You’re one of us now.
“It’s so frustrating. I only want food.”
At this point all I could do is give him a look of sympathy. He truly didn’t (and doesn't) know the totality of moving into a black neighborhood.
He didn’t know that in order to subsist, you have to go out and get the things you need. The luxury of having things brought to you other than the mail, UPS & Peapod is a rare occurrence.
But that wasn’t all Young Mr. Whitefolks had to say.
He also noticed that when he went to fast food restaurants that on more than one occasion he couldn’t order food that was printed on the menu boards.
“Dearest why would you expect to be able to order items that are advertised for sale?” I asked.
He looked at me like I was nuts.
Now I’m sure this isn’t a south side thing or a black thing but rather a bad service and not watching the stock thing. If your tastes tend to run towards fruit and yogurt parfaits and salads rather than burgers and fries you’re kinda out of luck.
You’ll either have to wait for your food or just be told that the restaurant doesn’t have what you want.
Apparently Young Mr. Whitefolks is used to being able to order whatever he wants off of the menu.
What a precious pumpkin.
In both cases, I strongly suggested that he put pen to paper and let the powers that be know about the lack of services in his neighborhood and to carbon copy everyone he could think of from his Alderman to Oprah.
He waved me off.
Not only did I tell him that the squeaky wheel gets the grease but he and his immediate neighbors will continue to be ignored and their hard earned money disrespected until they advocate for change.
Or in other words, attitudes won’t change until you demand that they change.
Companies also tend to think that if one person is concerned enough to put pen to paper, that a great many people may carry the same sentiment as well.
He was then amazed that other people were amazed at how livable his neighborhood was.
When cab drivers would reluctantly take him home from his late night job they were shocked to find a wide, green tree lined street instead of some languishing ghetto.
The drivers were concerned about his safety if they dropped him off on the south side. Apparently his statements of “I live in this neighborhood” did nothing to assuage their fears.
Go figure.
I told YMWF that some people’s perceptions of the south side may never change. You just have to look at them like they’ve lost their minds when they speak such foolishness.
It’s not our fault that they haven’t received the memo about the hotness of the south side.
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