Me and the Muffin Thief (Or, how not to deal with the office racist)
Unfinished letter #22
Last week I wrote about the meaning of Allahu Akbar and the way Muslims use it in day-to-day speech. This week’s essay is about a difficult personal experience I had around the phrase. To read the whole piece, upgrade here:
“Allahu Akbar!” John1 hisses each time he walks past my cubicle. John is the director of one of the teams in our branch. It’s 2015, and I am the only visible Muslim in a predominantly white office. I can still hear him say it in my mind today, ten years later. The stress wrongly on the second syllable of the ak-bar, as though he is saying the word bar. The voice rising a little at the end.
John isn’t anti-Muslim, or rather, he’s not exclusively anti-Muslim. John is simply edgy. Sure, he hisses Allahu Akbar and winks each time he walks by, but he also directs abuse at so many others. This is nothing next to the way he waits for Will to walk away from his desk every morning and then proceeds to take a bite out of his muffin.
My supervisor, Paul, is soft-spoken and friendly. He loves a good joke. He is accommodating to my prayer schedule, my chiropractor visits, my kids’ doctors’ appointments. I have been back from maternity leave for less than a year, and Baby A isn’t sleeping. Paul and I joke about how much cream I take in my coffee, about how tired I am all the time.
John comes over while I’m in Paul’s office and the two start bantering witty repartee back and forth like they’re lobbing tennis balls. They’re a lot of fun together. It’s like watching a sitcom.
Midway through, John turns to face me. “My whole team are idiots,” he rails, a smirk on his face. “You should come work for me. I could use someone competent.”
“No thank you,” I answer. “I’m happy where I am.”
I don’t mind John, not really, not when I can keep him at arm’s length. He’s entertaining when he’s in a good mood and easy enough for me to avoid when he’s angry. Most importantly, he isn’t my boss.