Gotta love the Brooklyn Target store...

Target has a culture. I don't mean that in an elitist way, or a jingoistic way or any way...they do. Fast. Fun. and Friendly. Red shirts of some type (if you work in the store) and khaki pants or skirts of some type (if you work in the store).
Minneapolis has a huge contingency of Somali, many of whom work at Target. And I remember feeling almost Target national pride when the Somali women would keep to the red and khaki but instill their own culture to it; wrap around khaki skirts with elaborate tunic kind of red tops. I felt, hey, there they are, carrying some product to a Target shelf to keep it stocked (ha! as if) but they could just as well be carrying a load of laundry down to the river in their Target, culturally-correct, garb.
It seemed pretty consistent, the way Target team members handled themselves. They all seemed to buy into the fast, fun and friendly culture, and except for the big-butted, capri pant wearing, curler in the hair, Betty Bag of Donuts shopping the aisles, you pretty much saw a sea of red and khaki.
Until I got to the Atlantic Terminal store: oh, the red and khaki was still there. Couldn't get away from that, but fast, fun and friendly? Yes. But definitely their own version.
I always had certain expectations of New York and its people. This is the place where, especially in Brooklyn, seeing a film is an interactive experience. I sat in the top row of a Brooklyn theater one night watching a scary film (can't even remember the name) but it was scary. You know the rumors or urban myths about people in the theater talking back to the screen? Well, it's no myth. There were all kinds of " Oh no you din't". "Girl, you open that fuckin' door and you get what you deserve.." I don't mean sotto voce, I mean, screaming at the top of their lungs, and then giggling and then screaming some more and then series of 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..she did NOT just open that door'.
Stuff like that. And when the enormous black woman, who was also alone and sitting next to me, grabbed my arm and then my hand, and gave me a look that said 'tough shit, I'm scared and you're the closest thing I have to protection' and then proceeded to pound on my arm everytime that woman DID open the door, well, then I knew, that the Brooklyn 'culture' was a whole different zoo of animals.
Cut to: Atlantic Terminal Target. Pre Christmas, a crazy time regardless. Buying something in Electronics. I know right away that I'm not in Kansas or Minnesota anymore when I ask a team member (Edward) if I get the Ipod Player here can I pay for it here? And he looked at me, real scared like, and turned and walked away. So I stood in line with about five other people.
I could see and hear the 'guest' first in line, asking a similar question...because as it turns out she had been standing in line for quite a long time only to be told by Saquista or Virgina (rhymes with Vagina) that she couldn't perform her transaction there because the product manager (Edward as it turns out) had told them they had to go to main checkout. The guest, being white, and not Jewish, did as she was told.
By the time I got up there, Saschachawatch, had just about had it. Every single one of the people in front of me had been told by Edward something very different then she was led to believe by the very same Edward. I reached her finally and asked the same question, Ipod player in hand: I merely started with, "I asked Edward...." and that's as far as I got. Edward happened to be walking down the main aisle and Javeeta caught him out of the corner of her eye.
"edward!" Seething, low but seething. "EDward". Little louder. Edward is having none of it. He keeps walking. "EDWArd". O.k. pretty loud now and I'm thinking I'm about to witness a whole new culture of Red and Khaki. "EDWARD. You muthuhfuckuh, donchyou be walking by like you din't hear me callin' you."
Oh my God! He's doing just that. Edward is pretending he doesn't hear Jack O Lantern and he's just about out of sight. I hold my breath.
"EDWARD! EDWARD! EDWARD! I'M JUST GOING TO KEEP ON SAYING IT UNTIL YOU COME BACK HERE MOTHERFUCKUH".
He's not coming back.
"EDWARD. EDWARD.EDWARD."
Now I have never heard a team member, anywhere, talk above a normal voice, "..may i help you find something"? But Bashika was not only screaming at the top of her lungs but was MF this and MF that..all the time wearing the Red and Khaki. And I thought well, you know what, this is the Brooklyn culture and instead of reporting her like some kind of Target nazi (yes, rumors of red kool-aid are true) I needed to embrace this version of Fast, Fun and Friendly. And then she was talking at me.
"You believe that mutherfucker"?
"No, no. I don't believe that fucker".
" I mean, i spos he tolt you you could pay for that here"?
"Nope. The fucker wouldn't even answer me."
" Moootheeerfuckker."
"Yepper."
"Tell you what honey, since that fuckuh won't answer me, I'm going to let you pay for that here."
"Thank you, ah...(I look at her team member name badge)..thanks Jennifer."
"yo welcm' baby."

Merry Fucking Christmas!