"The Greensboro Gangsta"

Support Black Businesses... in your own way.

It has always been a goal of mines to do better at supporting and giving back to my community. In some ways, I have always strived for the betterment of it, and for whatever it is I choose to do in this lifetime, I hold no shame in saying that it will always have black people, my people, in mind and at the forefront.

Now most people will have you believe that in order to support and properly give back to your community you are somehow required to spend hundreds, if not thousands of dollars into black products, or investing and supporting EVERY black-owned business or artists, and even working towards buying back your block that's clearly being gentrified, and though all of these things are important and necessary for our community to thrive, we still must understand that there is no right or wrong way to show our support.

Many of us are showing up in ways that best fit our current situation and others maybe starting off small, leading up to the bigger investments.

There are numerous ways to 'give back' or 'give something' to your people and community and investing in businesses or expressing and sharing your art as a creative are just some examples in doing so. Either way, there's no shame in knowing your role. Support is support, and most business owners and artists are just grateful for the opportunity to share what they have and make a difference in the way that they know, and whoever benefits from it, well, that's just icing on the cake.

And do you want to know how I know all of this to be true?

Well, it's Because Jamal leaned his right arm on the top of my car and told me so! ...

... (Such a wise man).

---

It was a Friday night and somehow, I was left with the sole task of bringing food to my girls and I's monthly book club meeting, (that month's book was "Black Girls Must Die Exhausted". Phenomenal read, by the way).

With absolutely no clue on what to bring to the function, and with just enough cash to only afford a four-piece nugget from Wendy's, (serving my queens one nugget each), I began searching high and low through the pockets of my wallet and managed to scrape together enough to now afford TWO four-piece nuggets from Wendy's, (I'm joking ya'll. I swallowed my pride and pulled out the Mastercard. Let me find something more suitable and treat my friends to a real 'fake' meal.)

As I drove along the main street struggling to find something acceptable to bring to the meeting, I noticed a bright orange and white sign in the distance that was shining brighter than the streetlights and demanding my attention.

And can you guess what sign that was?

It was Popeyes!

Now before I go any further, I feel as though I need to be honest here, *takes a deep breath*...

...I don't like Popeyes, (limit your judgment and let me explain!).

The chicken is just too damn crispy, and it cuts my gums, and quite frankly, Popeyes serves nothing but a bucket of drumsticks and no flats! So, I have my reasons. but the fries are good though!

Now I say all of this because it was in my innate nature to drive right on by this gum cutting establishment, but I was already running late to the book club meeting, and I didn't see another restaurant in sight.

I pulled into the drive-thru behind a long line of cars and quickly readjusted my seat to make myself comfortable, (I was going to be in this line for a while, might as well take a nap), but surprisingly progress was being made and the line was moving at a fair pace. I was now the third car waiting to place my order and quickly moving up to second.

As I continued to wait in line, I saw a brotha in a bright yellow jacket holding a red bag walk through the parking lot and approach the driver side of a car that was about four cars down from me in the drive thru.

Watching him, I noticed that he was now walking up to every car behind me and carefully opening up his red bag and asking the driver's a question that I couldn't quite make out.

"Was he selling something?", I thought.

As the man continued to make his rounds, and was now only two cars away from me, I could finally see that he was indeed selling something, and I wished for nothing more but for the woman in front of me to kindly hurry the hell up, (lord please let it be fifty-cent candy bars! I'm really not trying to scrape up more money to add to the money that I already scraped up to give to this man).

The brotha with his red bag was now one car away from me and I eagerly inched up and so desperately tried to make eye contact with the woman who was STILL ordering her food, (sis, it's only two of ya'll in the car! What the hell are you ordering?)

Finally!

The woman wrapped up her order at the same time yellow jacket man wrapped up his pitch and I sped to the window to now place mines. The brotha with his twenty-one questions walked out of the drive-thru and seemingly headed towards the neighboring parking lot of some abandoned plaza.

I skimmed through the menu for about ten seconds before finally ordering an eight-piece family meal, five biscuits, and a side of Cajun fries, (I told ya'll, the fries are good though).

"Do you want any drinks?", asked the woman on the speaker.

"No", I replied. "They got water at the house".

Noticing that the woman on the intercom wasn't at all amused by my joke, I pulled up towards the window and continued my transaction.

After accepting my payment, the woman in charge of my meal instructed me to wait in a reserved spot in the upper corner of the parking lot. Apparently, they only had six out of eight pieces for my eight-piece family meal, (see, this is why I don't come here).

As I pulled into the reserved spot, I immediately grabbed my phone after noticing the time. I was already running fifteen minutes late and I knew by the time I received my order, that fifteen minutes would somehow turn into an hour.

I called my friend to let her know my dilemma and in return I was met with an unnecessary seven second attitude. But after mentioning that our food choice was Popeyes, her attitude quickly turned into understanding. (I probably should’ve led with that, huh?)

Accepting the fact that I would be in this reserved spot for at least twenty minutes and again, already running late, I thought now would be the perfect time to try and finish up the last chapter of the book that I had already lied about finishing two weeks ago. Five pages into the chapter, I hear a knock on my car window that startled the shit out of me, and to my surprise it was the brotha in the bright yellow jacket still carrying around his red bag.

"Damnit! He found me", I said to myself quietly.

As I nervously stared out of my window and looking way too deeply into this brothas eyes, I patiently and awkwardly waited for him to let me know what he wanted. “Excuse me ma'am", said the brotha in his bright ass yellow jacket. “Can I interest you in buying a phone charger?”

"A phone charger?", I thought. "He’s selling phone chargers?" (Lord, why couldn’t it have been a fifty-cent candy bar?) Still staring and with the windows still rolled up, I slowly picked up my phone and pointed to the long white charger that it was connected to before replying, “Sorry sir, I already have one but thank you anyway”. The man looked at me with an intense stare and I could see right away that he was not the type to take 'NO' for an answer. With his bright yellow jacket and steel toe boots, I knew this brotha he was a hustler, a pure go-getter, and a person with countless tricks up his sleeve.

You see, he had time with me. Trying to sell your car chargers in a drive thru line that was moving at a rapid pace only gives one the luxury to receive a yes or no, however, I was stuck in a reserved spot waiting on an eight-piece family meal from scratch that was already paid for, this man was going to give me an entire PowerPoint presentation on why this charger was a necessary buy. So as expected, he continued.

Trick number one: Reasoning

“Yes, I see you already have a charger, ma’am, but this here is a quality purchase.” The brotha opened up his red bag and pulled out one of his “quality” chargers and began to demonstrate how qualified his quality actually was. “This charger extends ten feet ma’am. Does that charger extend ten feet ma’am?”, he asked with a tone that suggested I was missing out on "quality" material.

“No, no it does no— “ “Right! Exactly ma’am”, he said while completely interrupting my response. “This charger comes in multiple different colors. What colors do yo shit come in ma’am?” While pulling out an array of colored chargers and waving his inventory against the car's window, boxes of pink, greens, and yellows bounced off the glass blinding me harder than his yellow jacket.

I was almost speechless. Not only was this brotha annoying the hell out of me by consistently calling me “ma’am”, but his passive shady-ness was also starting to make me doubt my life choices. It was as if I had been completely careless in deciding what chargers would be best fitted to represent my phone, and not only that, but this man had absolutely no shame in pointing out my charger picking flaws, nor did he spare my feelings in effortlessly proving me wrong. But I replied to his shady comment anyway.

“This charger only came in whit— “ “Right! Exactly ma’am”, he said, once again interrupting me and judging my choices. “Now look”, he continued, “I’m not saying anything about that charger you got, (uhm you sure, my brotha? You been throwing shade this entire time), "but you need options and that’s what I’m offering you... options”.

This man in this highlighter jacket was persistent, and if I’m being honest, quite smooth. And as much as I enjoyed his pitch, (not really), and respected his powerful and persuasive techniques, (not really), I still had to turn him down. “I’m sorry”, I shouted, making sure he could hear me through these still rolled up windows. “I don’t really need a charger at this time”. Frustrated, the man looked at me again with intense eyes and politely asked me to roll down my window so we could “properly communicate”. Bringing my window to a crack, the man leaned forward and stood outside my car door with a stance that made him seem like he was ready to take down the government and asked, “What’s your favorite color?” “Purple”, I replied, my patience starting to run thin. He dug around in his red bag for about five seconds before pulling out one lonely charger. He zipped up his bag, swung it around his shoulders, and what came next was a conversation I was in no way prepared for. “So, look ma’am, it seems like purple is the only color I don’t have at this tim— “ “Awww”, I replied, taking a page out of his book and completely interrupting his sentence while sagging my lips as if I was genuinely heartbroken, “that’s unfortunate”, I continued, rolling my window back up and still looking directly at him. “Ma’am… ma’am”, he shouted, shifting his stance. “I don’t think you hearing me. I just don’t have it at this time, but in the meantime, pink is technically purple”. (Lawd! Where the hell is this chicken?) Running out of patience AND EXCUSES, I decided to just be honest with this brotha and tell him that I didn’t have the money for his product. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money to buy your charg— “ Interrupting me for the ninth time in one night, and making a point, he quickly replied to my comment,

“You don’t even know how much I’m charging for the chargers, ma’am” “Well how much are they SIR?!”, I asked through gritted teeth. From once standing like a brotha ready for governmental takedown, he shifted his weight to the side of the car and moved in closer, now standing like a brotha who was getting ready to lie to me. “Well, usually sweetheart, (oh! no ma’am this time? Yea, he’s about to lie), “usually these chargers go for twenty-five dollars in store, remember that quality I was talking about?” ... “but yes, ma’am I’m willing to charge you only twenty dollars” Twenty dollars?! For a charger?! I looked at him with absolute shock. This brotha was clearly ripping me off! “I’m not paying twenty dollars for a charger. You don’t even have the color I want!”, I replied, completely standing my ground. He seemed defeated. And with all his efforts failing, I thought with my last remark, he would give up and let me finish my book and wait on my food in peace, but to my surprise, he still had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

Trick Number Two: Negotiation

“Now I understand that this charger seems high in value, ma’am, but it’s high in quality, member how I mentioned quality to you before?", he said while pointing at me as if I was to agree with this nonsense. “Quality ma’am”, he continued. “But I understand, and because I understand ma’am, I’ll drop the price to fifteen dollars instead".

Unknowingly scrunching up my face and still in shock that he demanded so much money for a charger that I could honestly get for five dollars in, shall I say, Five Below, I made up my mind that I still needed to turn him down. Not only was this price point insane, but I honestly didn’t have the cash to make the purchase if I wanted to. I only scraped up enough money for TWO four-piece chicken nuggets at Wendy’s, remember? “Just tell the man the truth” I thought. “You know what", I started. "I would buy one of your chargers, but I don’t have any cash on me at the moment, you know, like how you don’t have any purple chargers on you…at the moment”.

Now in most normal situations, this response would’ve ended the entire conversation. Normally, when a person doesn’t have cash or can’t afford what someone is buying, the person with the product moves on to find a much more suitable customer, but not me, I can never have ‘normal’ interactions and certainly not this brotha who really doesn't seem to carry 'NO' in his vocabulary. Why would I ever think he wouldn’t have a third trick up his sleeve.

Trick number three: Accommodation

"Why didn't you start with that, ma'am", he said with a smile on his face. “This could’ve been handled a long time ago". (Why was he so damn happy? What is this man about to do?)

He released his bag from off of his right shoulder and unzipped the front pocket. After shifting his eyes from his bag, to me, and then back to his bag, he revealed a large white tablet and happily announced that he accepted credit cards.

(Well, I’ll be damned)

After taking six deep breaths, I politely asked the brotha if he’d be willing to accept ten dollars for the charger instead, (I was NOT swiping my card). “I thought you ain't have cash ma’am “, he said jokingly, even though neither of us cracked a smile. And after taking way too long to think on it, he accepted my offer, and I rolled my window back down so that the two of us could quickly trade items.

As the brotha shoved the ten-dollar bill into his pocket, I inspected the charger and realized that it wasn’t even pink! “This is red!”, I said with a hint of frustration and waving my fraudulent item against the window. “No, that’s pink ma’am. You just have to adjust it in the light. It’s abstract”. With no time to argue and seeing my food finally making its way to my car, I decided to accept what it was and leave it alone. The man moved a few steps back giving just enough room for the employee to hand me my food, but for some odd reason, he still stood beside my car waiting patiently, (why are you still standing here? I know you're not about to ask for some chicken?) As I grabbed my eight-piece family meal with no drinks, the brotha inched his way back to the window and proceeded to start up another conversation. “I appreciate you purchasing my products ma’am”. “No problem”, I replied, quickly starting up my car. “My name is Jamal, by the way, and we have to do better at supporting black businesses, you know what I'm saying, ma'am”. “Right on, Jamal, right on”. Jamal looked at me with his natural intense stare and gave me a ten second rundown on how him selling chargers are his way of uplifting and giving back to the black community, and how him being from Greensboro, North Carolina gave him his natural ability to "run this hustle game", as he so elegantly put it. I thanked Jamal for the lecture and expressed how happy I was to do my part. And quickly arranging his stance, Jamal gave another impression that said he was going in for, yet another conversation.

“You know, I’m originally from Greensboro, I think I mentioned that to you”, said Jamal while rubbing his hands together as if it was two degrees outside. “Yea you did” I replied. “You mentioned that fun fact already, but I really do have to go”. “Ok, ok, ma’am”, said Jamal with a saddened look on his face. “I understand, but do you think you can give me a ride really quickly to a friend's house so I can continue to sell these quality chargers? You know, for the community and you doing your part and what not.” I looked at him once again in complete shock. Does this man have no bounds? Jamal looked at me and noticing my expression, replied “Don't worry ma’am, he don’t live in Greensboro “.

©2022, Arien Simone