Decisions... Part I

For the first time in my life, I came home from work on a Friday evening and poured myself a drink.
I poured about 2 shots of whiskey in a glass, I never drink alone, but this time, I needed to sit down and make some serious decisions.  A situation had occurred at work, and I wanted to make the right decision.  I wanted to be fair.  I decided to call my brother and ask for his opinion, but he only made me feel worse.

Here is what happened…

It was a Friday afternoon in the Spring and almost everyone had left work early.  I liked days like these, because I could get work done without many interruptions.  My coworker, Annabel, entered our cube area stomping, pouting and slamming her notebook on the desk.  I asked her what was wrong.  Well apparently, there was a problem with the application that she was working on; however, it could be fixed by making a change on the network.  So, she went to the Bill, the Network Engineer and told him about the issue.  He told her that since it was Friday afternoon, and there was nothing that he could do now, she would have to wait until next week.  So, she decided to go to the Jeffery, the Network Manager, he said the same thing, although he did offer a temporary workaround.  Annabel was not satisfied, she wanted the change to occur immediately.  She was disappointed; however, that is not what she said.  Instead, she stated, “I talked to Bill and Jeffrey about the problem.  They could fix it today if they wanted too.  But, instead they wanted to Nigga-rig it!”  (Bill and Jeffrey are men of color.)  And then she stormed out of the area, and went to the ladies room.  I just sat there thinking, why did I ask her what was wrong.  A few minutes later, she ran back into the area.  “I didn't mean to say that I meant to say jerry, but Nigga came out instead.”  I didn't say anything; I just decided that it was time to go home.  I had heard enough for the day.

When I got outside, Bill and some of the other managers were standing outside.  I told them what Annabel said about wanting to say jerry-rig, but nigga-rig came out instead.  And, I said that it was time for me to go home.  As I left, I was debating about reporting it, I knew that I should report it, because the laws were clear, but, she did immediately admit that she made a mistake.  And I thought that should be recognized as well.  I wanted to do the right thing. 

After I poured my drink, I called my brother.  His response, “Why are you upset, you don’t have a problem using the word, why should it bother that she uses it.  You have probably used it in front of her.”  My response was that I have used the word, but I don’t use it at work I had never used it in front of her.  I became frustrated.  Why was I being attacked, when I hadn't done anything wrong?  All I had done was ask a question.  My brother stated that if I really did have a problem with it I would report what happened.