Poetic justice may be rare, but it does occur periodically.
Several American veterans live in the Philippines and they sometimes come to Citizen Services section of the US Consulate for assistance.
Bill, a large jut-jawed long-haired man, appeared one morning.
Several American veterans live in the Philippines and they sometimes come to Citizen Services section of the US Consulate for assistance.
Bill, a large jut-jawed long-haired man, appeared one morning.
My secretary, teary-eyed, reported that Bill had been calling her and the clerk unmentionable names, saying he had been kept waiting too long. I did not want my staff abused and asked that he be ushered into my office.
Bill came in with a noticeable frown and, after a quick glance at me, declared that he didn’t want to speak with a ‘brownie.’ The word is a common pejorative term for Asians.
I told him I was the consul and I would like to help. He repeated he didn’t want to have anything to do with a ‘brownie.’
I again explained to him that I was in charge of the consulate and would be glad to assist if he told me his predicament. Anticipating that he was expecting a Caucasian, I also explained that my superior, the Ambassador, would not be available for such consular matters.
This time he said with a grimace that he didn’t care to deal with ‘brownies.’
I called the Marine guards. They are usually men of few words: they simply picked him up and threw him on the street outside.
I thought that was the end of Bill. But sometimes life offers, unlike Hollywood, an interesting sequel.
Bill came in with a noticeable frown and, after a quick glance at me, declared that he didn’t want to speak with a ‘brownie.’ The word is a common pejorative term for Asians.
I told him I was the consul and I would like to help. He repeated he didn’t want to have anything to do with a ‘brownie.’
I again explained to him that I was in charge of the consulate and would be glad to assist if he told me his predicament. Anticipating that he was expecting a Caucasian, I also explained that my superior, the Ambassador, would not be available for such consular matters.
This time he said with a grimace that he didn’t care to deal with ‘brownies.’
I called the Marine guards. They are usually men of few words: they simply picked him up and threw him on the street outside.
I thought that was the end of Bill. But sometimes life offers, unlike Hollywood, an interesting sequel.
As a part of my consular responsibility, I made it a principle to visit the local prison every month to speak to American prisoners. It turned out that Bill was there. Speaking to his landlord, somehow enraged, he had pulled a knife, and the landlord had called the police.
In the jail, he had spoken insultingly to the staff and threatened a guard, and they had put him in chains.
When he appeared before me, he realized I was his only hope. He begged me to help him.
I told him I was still a ‘brownie’ but would do my best. I got him a good lawyer and I requested the jailor to take off his chains.
Bill stood there, as I was leaving, bedraggled, cowed and totally bereft of his earlier bravado. I turned and gave him a gift of two boxes of American cereals, something I knew from past experience American prisoners missed in the local prison.
In the jail, he had spoken insultingly to the staff and threatened a guard, and they had put him in chains.
When he appeared before me, he realized I was his only hope. He begged me to help him.
I told him I was still a ‘brownie’ but would do my best. I got him a good lawyer and I requested the jailor to take off his chains.
Bill stood there, as I was leaving, bedraggled, cowed and totally bereft of his earlier bravado. I turned and gave him a gift of two boxes of American cereals, something I knew from past experience American prisoners missed in the local prison.
RSS Feed