When a perennial Harm City target of Dindu aggression, Megan, was recently let go from her subsistence-level job as her employer jettisons its white staff for black replacements to appease customer complaints that the racial ratio of staff should equal that of the clientele, I wrote her story under the title below.
Three days later I received a check from a reader who wishes to remain anonymous, made out in my name, for Megan. I called the reader to thank him and let him know I would hand deliver the cash as soon as I could find a way to her place—as she is now living in an outlying community with her daughter and grandchild—he said, "James, I have seen too much of that in my life. I know it's not much, but it's something—it's what a man does when he can, and right now I can. Please give the lady my best."
Fortunately I am connected with two gyms in her vicinity and was able to get a lift out to the East County waterfront. I sat down briefly at the table with these two women who were discussing how they were going to make their rent payment this week with only one job between them, handed over a bundle of written job leads [It is hard to get hired in retail food in this area just now as two chains have recently went out of business and their is a glut of grocers out of work. The leads included a link sent from a reader for Aldis food stores.] and handed over the cash. Her daughter's jaw dropped and Megan cried as she counted out the $400, handed it to her daughter—which put them in the black, with enough left over for groceries—and asked me to "Please thank the man who did this," having only been told that it was unsolicited and "from a reader."
Sir, thank you.
The Ghetto Grocer Kindle Edition