So I started a job in retail. Retail gave me many gifts, all of them terrible. The time my manager docked my pay and put me down as “unexplained absence” even though I had evidence of my hospital admission. I even had photos- terrible. The time they decided not to do an investigation after my ipad was stolen AT WORK.
Was it the first time I had experienced racism at work? Definitely not. An alumni I called in one of my jobs told me to “go back to my country”- my housemate, whose rent agreement I guaranteed because he had bad credit fed so many false bad stories to my colleagues until another Nigerian had to be like, this guy hates you-stop living with him.
Somehow, it hit harder in retail, maybe because of how little I was paid. In a few weeks after starting, the only people I was friends with were the other black girls. One of them was, let’s call her Sandra. Sandra was fun- we met up for lunch and drinks and to shop. When we did shifts together, we helped each other out. We talked about our real lives. Basically, we were friends.
One day, Sandra tells me to look out for her boyfriend that was starting work in the store the next day when I was at work and she wasn’t. Apparently, he had just gotten out of jail in America and was back in the UK. As you do, I’m like “oh jail, how come? What was he in for”
“Attempted murder.”
“Attempted murder? Why was he in jail for attempted murder?”
“Oh he tried to kill someone, but the guy didn’t die.”
*Blinks slowly*
“Yeah I’ve told him to find you on your shift, just help him out if he needs it.”
My brain was fried. I didn’t feel like I could be like “I would rather not, if that’s okay”, so I just agreed.
The day of the shift comes and he really does come up to me in like the first 10 minutes. I help him out throughout the shift and as luck would have it, he finishes at the exact same time as me. We are walking out of the store together and I ask if he’s walking or taking the bus.
“Bus”, he answers.
I’m relived because I’m walking whether or not I planned to. I was wearing some massive heels as well, but as someone that used to wear heels to uni classes, I was used to it and ready to do it. We reached the bus stop turning and my mouth was already shaped into a bye, but he didn’t turn left towards the bus stop, he continued right with me.
“Oh the bus stop is right there”, I said pointing.
“I’m just going to walk as well”.
Yikes.
At this point, I’m like ah well, fair enough, we have to separate at some point. Somehow, every turn, he was there. I didn’t want to ask where he lived because, honestly, I didn’t want to know. I considered just stopping somewhere and saying that was my plan, but like, I couldn’t think clearly so I just carried on home.
I lived in an apartment building, so I thought, “he won’t know my actual flat”. He said bye literally at the gate to my apartment.
A man you don’t know following you home is already scary in itself, but I sort of put the incident out of my mind.
Like a month later, Sandra calls me to say “oh btw I told my boyfriend I’m staying at yours, just in case he calls to ask”
What. The. Hell? This guy literally knows where I live?! Why am I in the middle of this cheating and lying fiasco?
And that was the beginning of the end for me and Sandra.
I wonder how she is though.
Sandra, if you’re reading this, hey!