Trouble in Paradise

The UCBT office is right across from a specialty grocery store called "Garden of Eden." You can find out very little about them at their horribly spare website.

I tend to buy coffee at Garden of Eden, and the occasional 1/2 rotisserie chicken with two sides for $5.99. And sometimes I will buy an apple.

But for the last few weeks, there's been a line of protestors outside the store demanding, I think, that Garden of Eden go union.

"Garden of Eden," they say, "mistreats their workers!"

The store has countered by putting signs in the windows that say, "These people don't work for us. They never have."

What a battle.

I feel guilty for being a scab every day as I take the protestors' flyers and go past them into the store to purchase items from the poor souls working inside. Then I forget about them as I gulp down my delicious hazelnut house blend with skim milk (steamed for free!!).

After a few weeks of this, though, I have decided that I don't believe the workers of Garden of Eden are actually mistreated. They are all incredibly friendly and chatty and generally seemed excited to be there.

The guy behind the meat counter is a giant, flaming, black man in a hair net who all the middle-aged rich white ladies chat with like he's coloring their hair. And there's a cute, hispanic, effeminate man who flirts with me when I get coffee.

"Do you want a bag," he'll say.
"No, just a second cup," I reply.
"Oh, I'm sorry, we don't give second cups on {INSERT DAY HERE}."

He has said this joke to me on three different days. And I don't believe for a second that he doesn't remember me. HE REMEMBERS ME! His joke is code for, "I wouldn't mistreat you, you tall white hunk of strike breaker."

Also, I think he only knows one joke.