I walked into an antique store. The coloured glass drew me inside. Of course the antique dealers where chatty. Their stuff was good. I was starting to feel obliged to buy something especially after One of the partners opened his $400 Hydro bill which was cheap he said. So, I get to talking with Clive. Yes, I’m out for a walk , I say, to stay in better shape than riding my bike. Clive launches into this story about falling off his bike, and breaking three ribs. ‘I went uptown to the hospital and ‘this Chinese doctor, said I was fine… then I went to this white doctor a few days later who saw right away, that I had three broken ribs!’
I was about to buy a broach to help out with the Hydro bill. I had to walk out. Before I did, I stood at the counter just looking at him talk. I wanted to ask what exactly he meant. But really who cares. He’s been telling that story for over a decade.I didn’t want him to explain. That was just plain racist…it was also in the way he did a little Chinese accent. Terrible. In these moments, its hard for me to call people out. I just walk away. I chocked on the words “CLIVE YOU CAN’T SAY THAT.” Talk about people’s competence, leave their race out of it. Any medical association will tell you there are also bad white doctors. I failed in not correcting a fool.
Why did he say that to me? I ran from Clive to find a coffee…a strong one.