The Racist

So today I went to get an oil change in South Knoxville. I decided on a Shell station instead of Jiffy Lube. Bad move.

My attendant was missing teeth. The waiting room smelled like some sort of automotive nastiness, and it made me want to puik. Maybe it was vomit + oil?

In the waiting room, an older man wearing suspenders asked me if I was from Bearden (wearing Bearden baseball shirt I got for free). I told him I had no idea where Bearden even was; I just had the shirt. So then he asks where I’m from and what I’m doing in Knoxville and if I like it. Meanwhile, his kid is being obnoxious and climbing all over the chairs.

Then all the sudden he asks if I take a lot of history. I’m like, yeah, sorta. And he’s like “I don’t mean to be racist … but I read a story in the UT paper that black people owned slaves.” He goes on to tell me all about how more black people owned slaves than white people, and how the largest slave owner in Tennessee was black. And then he talks about how black people hate me for owning their ancestors and it’s wrong since we didn’t even do the slave-owning. Of course, I sit there and nod, agreeing that my history books lied to me as part of this conspiracy. And I pretend to feel sorry for him that his son will also be lied to.

I thought this was the part of Tennessee that didn’t want to secede …