Surviving The Trump Era:
I’m just another hardworking tax payer who happens to work on 5th avenue… beside The Trump Tower.
Am I happy? Not really.
I have no choice but to deal with it. Fine. In my mind, I kept saying, please let’s breeze through these four years and just hope Trump doesn’t completely fuck us over. Us, meaning anyone who isn’t him, wealthy, or of a different race.
I walk into work on November 10th after shuffling through the thousands of people scrambling along the barricades and the massive amount of security personnel. It’s to the point where I had to show my badge, and have an officer check bag before I could proceed to go along my way.
I took a deep breathe and exited the elevator to start my day. There was an intense feeling of defeat and sorrow in the air.
My job consist of interacting with people on a day to day basis. Some more difficult than others but I can handle it. I Think I’m fairly empathetic.
Here’s how this particular day went:
“May I please have John Stewart sit in booth 7?”
An older gentlemen gets up from the waiting area. He’s about 6ft, early 60’s, head full of gray hair combed over, neatly pressed suit and camel colored trench coat. Looking at him from afar, he looked easy to deal with.
I went around, sat down, introduced myself and asked what can I assist him with this afternoon.
“Trump is going to be amazing. You just wait and see lil lady”, with his southern accent.
Okay. So now I’m just sitting there, no longer wanting to help him, steam coming out of my head, sincerely trying to process this statement. I have a white man sitting in my space telling me ( a minority female) that this man who has been selected to ruin our country is going to be great. I tried desperately not to say something slick back to him and continued with his needs to get him the hell out before I lose my job.
This man didn’t even have the decency to say hello back or have a good evening for that matter. Tuh! The nerve of he.
This is the reality of this country. We did it.