The Black Experience Salesman (Part 3 Conclusion)

 

Oct. 21, 2024 

                                              

Part 3

“But assigned by whom?” I asked.

This was a while after picking myself and my bike up off the ground when I lost my balance. I saw this Dr. Lester guy suddenly appear on the street corner as I was pedaling by and then felt that sudden punch of hot air shove me over.

That was the question because this whole situation made me nervous and also a bit angry. Who the hell was that out there actually grading my blackness? And then finding my blackness so insufficient to the point where they decided I needed someone assigned to me to make me blacker? And what kind of name was Dr. Lester?

He never answered. Instead, Dr. Lester just stood there on the corner flashing that blinding smile, one hand still holding his briefcase, the other still casually hidden inside the pants pocket of his expensively tailored suit.

Wait…was Dr. Lester wearing those shades when I first saw him? Just as that bit of confusion stumbled through my mind, they sparkled like what you would see in a movie if a particularly hot Hollywood star was wearing them in a role that emphasized just how hot of a Hollywood star they were.

Who was this guy?

“There’s a time for everything, Brother George, and now ain’t the time for that. May never be a time for that. Because what matters is you, Brother George. What matters right here, right now, is what I can do for you.”

“But what is so wrong with me that I need a damned ..what is it? A Senior Black Experience salesman? Seriously? I mean, what the hell kind of job description is that, for real?

“For real! There you go, Brother George! That’s the spirit! Keep talking like that, and this might not take as long as we had anticipated.”

Dr. Lester looked incredibly excited, as though his favorite football team had just scored the winning touchdown.

“Dude, you’re not…serious…”

And just like that, his shoulders slumped, his smile ceased to glow, and the sparkle faded from his shades. He shook his head.

“Then again,” he mumbled.

I almost felt sorry for him. I guess getting assigned to me was kinda like drawing the short straw.

“So, is there a choice here, Dr. Lester? I mean, just because whoever these folks are decided I’m not Black enough doesn’t mean you have to take the assignment, does it? Or do I have to accept you as my Emergency Blackness Instructor? Right? There has to be a way out of this thing, man, because I’m telling you, I’m just not feeling this shit right now.”

Dr. Lester put on a lop-sided grin as he peeped at me over the top of his shades and winked.

“Brother George, being Black is never a choice. And there is never a way out. It’s how we survive. But you keep making progress like that, and you’ll be feeling this shit in no time.”