Monday, April 6, 2009

Why Can't We Help But To Keep It Real?

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor
Urban Chameleons in corporate America never cease to amaze me with how quickly they will flip the script as a result of their natural default button to forever "Keeping it real " no matter what the given circumstances are. Recently, I was at a black-tie event with colleagues from my firm, which include only a handful of us Black folks. We were all "enjoying each others company" – you know, in that "Ha ha ha Bob, you are too funny (jeezus how long do I have to be here?)" kinda way. So, we're schmoozing with an array of colorful martini's and passed hor'dourves while continuing to laugh at each others corny ass jokes in an attempt to prevent those awkward moments of silence. All of a sudden a white colleague of mine to my left (who we'll call A) leans over me to ask a Black colleague of mine (who we'll call B) if he had noticed his old friend sitting at another table. "Notice him?" Colleague B replies. "I swear if I have to talk to him, I just might have to cut him!" While Colleague A chuckled at what he took for a harmless joke- I damn near choked on my vodka martini looking around to see if I was back in the 'hood, in a cipher, hittin' a blunt, talkin' bout "Who wanna come test me?!" Certainly not expecting the possibility of someone being sliced at this black tie function filled with politicians.
Not but 10mins later, Colleague B's boss comes up to him and insists that he accompany him to the neighboring table to greet the "old friend." Naturally this is not an uncommon request being that the reason why we all are really here is to schmooze our asses off in hopes of gaining a new “friend” that will benefit our careers. Now if it's one thing, an Urban Chameleon won't do is loose his job over some beef. This is the difference between being an Urban Chameleon and just urban. However, we will still come armed. Sho'nuf, Colleague B was NOT playing when he said he would have to "Cut him." Decked out in a Giorgio Valentini tuxedo, he proceeded to put down his napkin, stretch out his fingers to the right of his plate, which was hosting a watercress and frois grois salad where he sure enough picked up the butter knife, and slipped it right into his jacket like a pocket square. Oh, ... blade up and all. You know this sistah was beyond laughing and loving it.
Don't you know he straight walked over there eyes fully pressed on "old friend" like, "You wanna come test me? You peep dis blade right? Don't play wit me mothaf*cka, it ain't a thing."
Cuz Ivy League degrees and working in corporate America and all, we still can’t help but to always keep it real. Why is that?
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