Hi, I'm Ty in the domestic agriculture technologies consulting practice (DATC). I realize that there are not a whole lot of "people of color" who make a career here--yes, I'm The Black Guy--so I just want to take a quick moment of your busy morning to offer my sincere apologies for past, present, and most importantly, future queries.
No. I do not know where you can "score some herb." For this, I offer my sincerest apologies to the entire firm. I do not know who has "the hook-ups," nor do know where one could procure "sticky icky," "skunk," "da chronic," or "puff the magic dragon." What the hell, people? I've asked around, conducted my own internal investigation and have determined that no one else is constantly asked where illegal drugs can be purchased. I'm only left to believe one thing: that because I am the "African-American" that I must know people who sell drugs, or that I am somehow someone who possesses, uses, or sells drugs. Again, I am sorry, I'm not that Black guy. No mon, this Rasta no pasta.
Can't a grown ass man stand at an 8th floor urinal without some intern or Jr. Associate walking up next to me to pretend-piss without making that thumb-index-finger-to-lips "joint" smoking gesture toward me? Winking like some closet homo who wants to suck me off in the toilet like Larry "Wide Stance" Craig (R-Idaho). What?! Sorry, "brah".
Have some intelligence, people. No longer do I want to stand in an elevator with someone asking, "Yo, bro. Got any smokes?" What?! I'm married with children and a member of the PTA. I have a very successful portfolio of clients around the country. I am a Vice President here. Do I have any smokes? Oh, should I? Sorry. What the fuck?!
I know you're scared like bitches of getting busted like Michael Phelps's simple-minded ass. I know you don't want to go to jail. I know you don't want your wife to know. I know you don't want to lose your six-figure job. I know you don't want shame and embarrassment showered upon your family. You know what? Me fucking either. Pop quiz: who's going to get in more trouble? The white associate who buys weed at work or the black VP who fucking sells weed at work. You have three seconds to answer. What the fuck do you think?!
White = Temporary note in personnel file until your Sr. Partner father makes it disappear.
Black = Jail. Future of doing hotel laundry like Will Smith in that Happyness deal.
Quit asking me dumb ass insulting shit, especially at work, fools! I'm neither your friend nor that guy you can txt as, "I no this 1 blk dood, he is da fuckn coolst evrr lol" followed with a variant of some "nigga" joke or fake slang phrase made in a horrid, stereotyped Jules Winnfield accent, "SHEEEEEET, muthafucka!" Fuck you!
Lastly, I can no longer attend your birthday parties or happy hour ABBI Friday-brations because I'm sick to fucking death of all you dumb white motherfuckers following me around flicking lighters like it's a KISS concert. Fuck you!
Find your own damn weed. It's 2009, there are delivery services for that kind of shit...not that I know. So quit asking me because of my goddamn skin color.
With best regards and quit frontin',
-ty
/DATC
cc: HR, Exec Team
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