I walked straight to the battery rack on the furthest wall at the auto parts store and started my search. I had a picture of the car battery with the part number on my phone for reference. All the numbers and codes on the shelf and labels were close to impossible to read. They had tiny print and were covered in dirt and grease, not to mention my troublesome eyesight that seems to have an unattainable sweet spot only when I need it the most.

After a frustrating minute or two I gave up my search and turned to the counter for help. The man behind the counter had a completely shaved bald head. He sat slumped on the stool in front of the soft glow of the computer screen. He had the body of a die-hard Texas BBQ consumer, smudged up, thin framed glasses, and peaked at five foot one standing up or at a full speed, portly slumped waddle.

I made eye contact and said sheepishly for some reason,”I’m not sure what I’m looking at”. I suppose I expected the employee who had been watching my entire battery quest, and was coldly staring back at me as I spoke directly to him, to offer a helpful response, but he did not. He just looked at me with the blank stare of a bored house cat. I thought, maybe the Covid-19 plexiglass barrier between us was causing some interference, so I pointed at the battery wall and grunted like a caveman and I got a response. “What is it that you want? He said in a monotone cadence with a dead stare and no movement, like if a pile of mashed potatoes were suddenly speaking to me. I said I need a battery, then thought to myself, why else would I be searching dusty tags on the great wall of batteries if I didn’t need a battery. I thought it was obvious. His response was a sarcastic, “Well now we’re gettin’ somewhere” as he shifted his weight and scooted up to the wanting computer screen. I realized, at that moment, that I’ve been here before.

I was being judged and treated accordingly. It happens sometimes in certain areas with certain people. For some, it’s the color of their skin, or their accent, or what they’re wearing. For me, it’s my long hair. What makes it different for me is that I usually have it tied back in a ponytail and suffer less consequence. But today I was letting my freak flag fly inside the auto parts store and was immediately paying the price.

In this situation, I’ve learned that I have to be commanding, stern, and aggressive to hold my ground. I have to prey on the little round man’s insecurities and control the environment. The last time I was in this situation, it almost turned into a beating in the parking lot, and I was the little guy, so I know I have to clear my head and engage a strategy to avoid another confrontation.

I made sure to stand up straight, almost towering above to project dominance, and read the computer screen myself. I made sure he was applying the battery core charge and even corrected him on the part number when he brought out the wrong size battery.

I’ve learned the hard way that when someone is small minded, petty, judgemental, and instantly dislikes something about you, they have no problem ruining your day or wasting your time. This guy was selling me the wrong part. Double check everything! They do not care about you or their own service. In many cases, their boss will have the same attitude. I know this because I have held many jobs in many industries that are run by these personalities. It’s almost a sport to make fun of people after they leave. It’s less true nowadays with all the political correctness they despise, but it’s still there. I wish I could say I make it a sport to play along, to act insecure, foggy, and oblivious to car knowledge, (or whatever knowledge), just to see how far they’ll take their abuse. But sometimes, my brain actually is foggy and I really don’t know what I’m doing.

That’s when I need to be sure to tie back my hair.

I realize, it’s not the same, but it gives me a glimpse into racial profiling. I’ve had a cop smugly and sarcastically ask me, “OK, where’s your weed?” I answered truthfully and said I don’t smoke weed. He said, “Yeah, right”, then made me drop my pants and spread my butt cheeks so he could look up there for drugs. That’s actually happened a few times now, and I thoroughly enjoy showing a cop my asshole every time.

I have to be aware of my long hair when I get pulled over or deal with any authority. I usually wear it out if I’m in Traffic Court as a statement of non-conformity, but it really doesn’t make things better. It’s actually pretty stupid of me to do that. The Bailiff always, always singles me out to say something benign just to show power. I’ve been asked multiple times by authority figures, as if they already know the answer, “You working anywhere?” In every case they act overwhelmed and completely surprised that I’m the head of a department, or own a company, or whatever.

I realize that not every cop or auto parts employee is a judgemental prick, but since we’re all profiling here. Well….