So anyway, here's the story.

A woman came in to Starbucks today and walked up to my register. I smiled and asked how she was doing, and she said, "Well, I'm okay..." in this semi-depressed voice, and (as is my wont) I said, "Oh no, only doing okay?" Then she said, "Actually, I came in to talk to you about something." Yes, me specifically.

What she said really shocked me. She said that on four or five occasions, she has come into the store when I have been working, and I have passed over her in favor of other customers. She said that my treatment of her has made her stop patronizing Starbucks. She also made a point of saying that the last time it happened, I helped two "blonde, white women" instead of her. (She is a young black woman.) And she said that she had come back several times to talk to me about it, but tonight was the first night I had been there when she came in.

I was stunned, really. I didn't know what to say.

I remember one instance that she mentioned, when a customer told me that someone had left because I didn't help her in the correct order. On that occasion, I simply didn't see her. I don't know if she was standing behind a sign, or if I thought she'd already been helped, or what. There are a million reasons why it might happen. It's easy to get confused. I told her this and she said, "Yes, that's what I thought the first or second time. But it happened four or five times."

I apologized, of course. I reiterated that there are times when there are a lot of people in the store, when there is more than one register open and I don't always know who has been helped and who has not. I said that I always try to give every customer good service; that I try and help everyone in the order they walk through the door. I was on the verge of tears, talking to this woman. Desperately wanting her to believe that I am not a bad person.

The thing is, she wasn't angry. There are a lot of marginalized people out there (whether they be racial minorities, gay, overweight, or whatever) who are very angry. You hear, "It's because I'm black, isn't it?" in situations where that's patently ridiculous. But I didn't get that vibe at all from this woman. She seemed like she had been hurt. Like I hurt her. She came back on several occasions to talk to me, to try and get resolution. That says a lot. An angry person would have fired off a letter to Starbucks, or hired a lawyer or something. A confused, hurt person just wants to find out what's going on.

And for me, it isn't about whether she patronizes Starbucks in the future or not. It's not about me being the face of a corporation. It's about the fact that I, as a human being, hurt someone's feelings. That this woman is out there thinking I would discriminate against her on the basis of race.

I didn't know how to say, "I am not a racist." When a white person says, "I am not a racist," it sounds like, " I am a racist, but I'm in denial about it." I mean, I probably am a racist in some ways. Just like most white people.

Last time I was in Los Angeles, I was talking to Rose (a girl who I grew up with) and she was saying that until she started dating a black guy, she didn't realize how unconsciously racist she had been her whole life. My little sister was a Black Studies minor in college, the only white girl in a lot of her classes, and that issue came up then, too, and we would talk about it. How ignorant we are, as whites.

It's a weird coincidence that this happened while I am taking a class on the Harlem Renaissance. We have been talking a lot about the black experience, black history and so forth, and the more I learn, the more sheer admiration I have for the African-American race. How they persevered in the face of such horrible, systemic bigotry-- how they continue to persevere, even though the systemic bigotry is still there.

In the early years during Reconstruction, a black man could be lynched for disagreeing with a white man about the price of blueberries. One black man had his family killed and his house burned to the ground because he had taken a job in the post office. Black people were burned alive, for entertainment. And you don't need me to tell you that stuff like this still happens, that hate like this is still out there. We all see it.

I know all of this isn't really germane to this small situation, but it was in the back of my mind, talking to this woman. How black anger at the white world is wholly justified. How she has a right to feel the way she does, and how classy she was for handling it the way she did. I admired her, and then I felt that my admiration might be condescending.

You see, I can acknowledge my white guilt, but I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with it.

I was raised by parents who-- although they try to avoid it-- have their racist moments and tendencies. My mother grew up in South Africa during apartheid-- who knows how that affected her? My grandmother spoke very respectfully of the black people she lived among, but called them Negroes all the same. My dad has occasionally said really appalling things, my best friend in high school thought nothing of telling horrible racist jokes-- who knows how that has impacted me?

All the same, I know I do not racially discriminate against my customers. I know that I am basically a good person. (Forgive me for now wanting to offer proof.)

The store I work at is in an extremely racially mixed area. I live in a neighborhood that has a large Asian and black community. We have customers of all races coming into our store; it would be very hard work to discriminate against every third customer who walks in the door, you know?

I work with, and am friends with, people of all races. I am friends with many of our regular customers-- again, people of all races. There's the Dutch woman who comes in and gets a maple scone every morning. The black woman who has the same name as my grandfather, who works next door. The Asian novelist whose book I am about to start reading. I wasn't even conscious of it until today. It sounds so disingenuous to say, "They're just people, I don't even notice skin color," because of course you notice skin color, but it has never stopped me from trying to connect with someone.

I love the people who come into my store, and I treat them kindly, and I befriend many of them. Of all the things I love about my job, this is the thing I love the most. This is the thing I take the most pride in. And when this woman came in and told me that I made her feel unwelcome in our store... well, I took it to heart.

In retrospect, I think I could have handled it much better. I could have asked her name, for one thing. I can't believe I didn't do that. At the time, I was just overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do except sincerely apologize, and she seemed to believe that I was sincerely sorry, but I don't know. I wish she would come back so I could talk to her again, shake her hand, find out her name, make her see that I am not the person she thinks I am.

All my friends at work said that she was clearly wrong, that they've always admired the way I interact with customers, that they've never seen me treat anyone badly or disrespectfully. One of my friends said, "I'm sorry this had to happen to someone as nice as you, Mo," and his words almost made me cry.

But I just can't dismiss it. She wasn't angry at me, she didn't seem predisposed to see herself as a victim or me as The Man. She simply wanted to know what had been going on in my head, why I had done this to her, and I stood there, embarrassed and ashamed, and I didn't know what to say.

I still don't.