I'm pretty sure I'd always been sweet on girls with a pretty face.
Picture a young WIA working in a West Indian Candy factory.
This was back in the day, but I was not allowed to legally work in most places.
This place, owned by a family friend, was running a candy and food factory in Industrial Brooklyn. I was working 40 hours a week that summer, and possibly making 100 bucks, CASH MONEY. Kept me in comic books and Nike's. (well Airwalks at the time, but y'all RN's can't relate)
Keep in mind, the minimum wage was like 4.25 at the time. So I probably would have made 100 after tax, but still..the implications...
So my boss was a
Coolie, an Indian coolie to be precise.
I'd get to that joint at 8:00 am (this is my summer vacation, keep in mind), and be ready to make grater cake, peanut drop, and worst of all, "West Indian spice mix" (which was a lot of tumeric, chili, with no eye goggles or masks)).
I was working alongside an older woman (Jamaican), an older dude (Prolly Jamaican), and "Fancy", a early to mid 20's Haitian woman.
I mention the islands, because lotta you Yankees don't realize the Haitians and Jamaican beef is up there with the Korean/Japanese/Chinese beef. (and a lot of you Coli Brehs don't realize most Asians have historically hated each other...)
Fancy, was by all accounts, not good at the job. I'd just got there, and I could wrap and pack more gizadas than she could.
So Ol Woman and Fancy were always fighting.
But Fancy had something I'd never seen before.
Fancy had AZZZ.
Cot damn. I can't see her face in my mind's eye, but I CAN SEE DAT BACK END. *praise Jah*
What are these feelings that I've never had before?
What was it about this chick that had me all out of sorts?
Azz.
Now part of my job, when I wasn't wrapping, sorting, and packing, was going in the delivery van to bring stuff to the vendors.
But I didn't always go. Uncle Factory Owner took Fancy on some of those "deliveries".
It took me a long time to realize why he hired her.
*pours out some Red Stripe*