People are people and the sky is blue.

“Can you give me some pointers on dating a black woman. I’m a small white guy and I’ve heard all the jokes from Chapelle about dating black women. I know this sounds racist but I really don’t know what to expect.”

Well buddy, it doesn’t necessarily sound racist, but you definitely sound ignorant as fuck. Dave Chapelle is a fucking comedian. Why are you listening to him about black women? I get that cultural differences can exist, but a woman is a woman. Are Black women some kind of new species of human? Fucking mutants like X-Men or something?

“Well, she’s a woman man. I don’t know her, but if you’ve been on a date the same rules apply. Be nice, respectful, ask her questions, get her talking. You know, stuff you do when you meet someone new.”

“Really, but I’m white. I mean, I’ve watched a lot of shows and black women seem a bit rough.”

Is this the type of thinking that going on in Gringolandia? Black people are like the Borg or something. One mind, one thought. Doesn’t he realize that the black diaspora is as vast as the white? But I'm not surprised considering who it’s coming from. This is the same guy who thinks every black dude has a dick down to the floor, loves basketball and hip hop. Probably one of those guys who believes (but won’t say openly) that black people are the best athletes due to slavery. Master breed those big strong black guys to work hard in the field and that later translates to the court. Yet those same folks are lazy. Whatever.

“Man, stop watching TV. You can’t base your perception on that. You have to actually talk to her. That’s it”

“That’s it”

“Yes”

“But what if some black dudes see me with her. I’m a small white guy. I don’t want to get jumped.”

WTF? I’m sure a white guy getting jumped by some big black dudes for being with a black woman in public is as common as transgender women attacking “normal” women in the bathrooms. As in it ain’t scientific significant. Where does this shit come from? I should have asked him if he knew of any incidents. Historically speaking it’s usually the black man/white woman that got you invited to the necktie party. Though in my own family, I know my great-great-great white grandfather had to run from the Great state of Georgia with my black grandmother due to miscegenation laws. Only think racist white folks hate worst than niggers are nigger-lovers. Maybe he should be warily of the white guy.

“Dude, no one’s gonna jump you. You may get a few odd looks, but I highly doubt you’ll be jumped. It’s not that serious.”

“OK, but all you can tell me is to be myself?”

"Yes, it’s just gonna be you and her on the date.”

“Well what shouldn’t I say?”

“Dude, are you serious? Have you never been on a date? No religion no politics? Also, don’t tell her that you’re the first black woman you’ve ever taken on a date. It sounds fetish-y. She’s alrealy aware that you’re white and she’s black. If she already agreed, I think she ‘s comfortable with it. You should be too.”

“Alright man, I’ll take your word for it”

Later that week, homey comes into the office after a date with homegirl and judging by the lipstick smeared all over his face it must have went well.

“Dude, you were right. I was just myself. We had a great time”

“Told you. A woman is a woman man.”

He gives me a hug and head upstairs. Maybe one day he’ll realize that people are people and the sky is blue. Everyone’s just trying to find a little company and get laid.

Domestics

God, I really wish this guy would stop calling the front desk begging me to check on his “girlfriend”. You know, one of the worst aspects of working overnight as a concierge is unwittingly getting involved in resident’s domestic disputes. They can range from the semi-comical such as the husband who’d use the door chainlock to keep his wife out of the apartment anytime she’d wash clothes at night. At least once a month this would happen. “We never use the chainlock” she would always say. Damn woman, isn’t that a fucking clue? Maybe you enjoy sleeping on the couch in the resident’s lounge? Or much more dangerous and serious instances, like the guy attempting to rape his foreign non-English speaking, no VISA having, internet ordered wife. Usually they fall into the realm of a couple is fighting, and the not on the apartment lease member getting the boot. The newly homeless (oftentimes, especially the men, have no apartment of their own) begging and pleading with the concierge to “let them in, so we can talk” . Shit this fucker’s calling again. I already told him she didn’t want any guests.

“Hey man. it’s me again. I’m really sorry but I’m really worried about her. Can I just come by? I have the key.”

“No, sir, you can’t. As I told you before, she doesn’t want any guests and I’ll be forced to call the police if you come by. “

“But I have the key”

Listen motherfucker, you ain’t on the lease, you ain’t on the guest’s list. You probably took them on some “You my bitch, hoe, and I can see you whenever I need to bitch” type shit. Man, that’s what I’d like to say. Instead I say..

“Honestly sir, that would be a bad idea especially if she decides to call the police. Do you really wanna explain to them why you are here with her keys after she told me not to let anyone up? She may say you took them. You not being on the lease wouldn’t help either.”

“Yeah, man. you’re right. You’re right. Well…can you go upstairs and knock on the door. Can you use the spare key to enter her apartment and check on her? I’m really concern?”

IS THIS MOTHERFUCKER CRAZY? Enter her apartment with the spare key? First off, a male concierge entering a woman’s apartment in the middle of the night to “check on her because her boyfriend was concern” sounds fucking outlandish. Add in the race factor, (I’m black, she’s white), it would increase the creepiness exponentially. I can see the headlines now “ Creepy older black male concierge lustfully sneaks into young, smart, stunningly attractive white maiden’s apartment in his bestial quest to quench his fetish for white women.” Naw I’ll pass.

“There are privacy laws that prevent me from doing that. I can go knock and see if she answers, but other than that, you’ll have to contact the police.”

“Please do that man, Thanks”

I hang up and sit there waiting until he calls back. I’m going to have to tell management about this shit though. Doubt they’ll do anything. Management only cares when they can issue a fine. No money, well bitch shoulda choose better is their attitude. Here he is calling back for an update.

“Sorry man no luck. Contact the police if you’re really worried”

“Thanks man, but she’ll hate me if I do that. I get it. I get it. Thanks anyway.”

The next night I see her. They must have spoken because she comes to the desk apologizing.

“I’m so sorry. That’s so embarrassing. I promise you, he’s never coming over here again”

“Ok” as I think to myself “sure lady, sure”

And who’s back the next night. Homeboy. And what does he say to me as she goes to check her mailbox in the package center. “I got that good dick, dude you didn’t know” winking and smiling. Motherfucker.

P**&Y got ya hooked

One of my less favorite aspects of concierge work is unwittingly being involved in dealing with personal relationships. When you notice that a couple is having issues, you oftentimes end up as an unofficial referee between the two (or more) individuals. Generally speaking, it’s treacherous territory and usually building management wants nothing to do with it.

Home Delivery at Its Finest

Man, I cannot believe this woman. That's pretty bold and downright dangerous if you ask me. Even if the chances of getting caught are minute, the penalties for it are huge. This woman is fucking crazy.

"Man, you know that's a felony right?? Probably several felonies."

"I know but I've been doing it for a few years and nothing's happened."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean coke is expensive and whenever I go to the West Coast for a girls weekend, we always buy blow and snort it up. I'm not going to just leave it with them when I put in on it."

"How?"

"I just buy myself a birthday card or whatever, wrap up the leftover blow and mail it to myself. It's usually takes about 4 days to reach here."

"Using USPS?"

"Who else? They can't check all of that mail."

"Using your own home address?"

"Yeah, I mean, I can't risk getting on a plane with it. USPS delivers it right to my mailbox. It's like a slow-mo Amazon. Best service in town for 50 cents. In fact, I should have some in the mailbox right now. I'll show you how easy and simple it is."

She walks over to the mailroom and retrieves her mail. She comes back to the desk with a hot pink envelope in her hand. She opens up the envelope, pulls out a get well card and drops a small baggie filled with coke on the desk.

"See."

I'm in a state of disbelief. Never would I have thought that anyone would mail cocaine though the mail to themselves. I guess Rick James was right; cocaine is a hell of a drug.

"Home delivery at its finest" she says as she heads upstairs with her baggie of coke and a big smile on her face. Well I'll be damn.