MARGE … Sometimes it seems like the devil and all his imps are tryin’ to wear your soul case out…. Sit down, Marge, and act like you got nothin’ to do…. No, don’t make no coffee, just sit….
Today was laundry day and I took Mrs. M …’s clothes down to the basement to put them in the automatic machine. In a little while another houseworker comes down—a white woman. She dumps her clothes on the bench and since my bundle is already in the washer I go over to sit down on the bench and happen to brush against her dirty clothes…. Well sir! She gives me a kinda sickly grin and snatched her clothes away quick….
Now, you know, Marge, that it was nothin’ but the devil in her makin’ her snatch that bundle away ’cause she thought I might give her folks gallopin’ pellagra or somethin’. Well, honey, you know what the devil in me wanted to do! … You are right! … My hand was just itchin’ to pop her in the mouth, but I remembered how my niece Jean has been tellin’ me that poppin’ people is not the way to solve problems…. So I calmed myself and said, “Sister, why did you snatch those things and look so flustered?” She turned red and says, “I was just makin’ room for you.” Still keepin’ calm, I says, “You are a liar.” … And then she hung her head.
“Sister,” I said, “you are a houseworker and I am a houseworker—now will you favor me by answering some questions?” She nodded her head…. The first thing I asked her was how much she made for a week’s work and, believe it or not, Marge, she earns less than I do and that ain’t easy…. Then I asked her, “Does the woman you work for ask you in a friendly way to do extra things that ain’t in the bargain and then later on get demandin’ about it?” … She nods, yes…. “Tell me, young woman,” I went on, “does she cram eight hours of work into five and call it part time?” … She nods yes again….
Then, Marge, I added, “I am not your enemy, so don’t get mad with me just because you ain’t free! … Then she speaks up fast, “I am free!” … All right,” I said. “How about me goin’ over to your house tonight for supper?” … “Oh,” she says, “I room with people and I don’t think they …” I cut her off…. “If you’re free,” I said, “you can pick your own friends without fear.”
Wait a minute, Marge, let me tell it now…. “How come, I asked her, “the folks I work for are willin’ to have me put my hands all over their chopped meat patties and yet ask me to hang my coat in the kitchen closet instead of in the hall with theirs?” … By this time, Marge, she looked pure bewildered…. “Oh,” she said, “it’s all so mixed up I don’t understand!”
“Well, it’ll all get clearer as we go along,” I said…. “Now when you got to plunge your hands in all them dirty clothes in order to put them in the machine … how come you can’t see that it’s a whole lot safer and makes more sense to put your hand in mine and be friends?” Well, Marge, she took my hand and said, “I want to be friends!”
I was so glad I hadn’t popped her, Marge. The good Lord only knows how hard it is to do things the right way and make peace…. All right now, let’s have the coffee, Marge.