The Complaint

 The young man clucked his teeth in approval. He liked the email he had

 crafted. It went like this:

“I arrived at the ticketing desk at 8:45 for a plane departing at 9:15am.

 I knew this to be late but I was hopeful that the plane hadn't completed

 boarding. The agent at the counter sucked her teeth as she told me that I was

 too late. She subsequently voided my ticket and said that I'd have to go

 standby on the following flight. When I asked if there was anyway I might

 make the 9:15, she laughed and condescendingly showed me her watch, slowly

 reading the time as though I were incompetently stupid. She gave me my

 standby ticket for the next flight and sarcastically said 'well...MAYBE

 make it.' At 8:55, I got to the gate to find out that my

 original flight hadn't in fact left. According to the agent at the gate, it

 had taxied in at 8:45. Clearly, the person at the ticket counter hadn't even

 bothered to look it up. To make matters worse, because I had been issued a

 new ticket, my seat was no longer reserved and so I had to go standby on a

 flight that I had in fact been confirmed on! Now, I recognize that I arrived

 at my flight quite late. However, the outright disrespect and the

 unwillingness to give good service at the ticketing counter was appalling.

 In situations like this, I can't help but wonder if the agent saw my youth

 and brown skin and felt that I didn't warrant attention, but I digress. I

 pay good money just like anybody else; I expect respect and courtesy."

 The young student read these words with immense satisfaction,  and clicked

 “send." He was very important, and anyone reading his complaint would

 surely see his immense greatness.  He could already see the how the scene

 would play out:

 The black woman with 4 inch nail and her typical smug look would come into

 work, only to be greeted be her irate boss. He would slam a report from the

 United Airlines corporate office and demand and explanation. The employee's typical superior attitude would vanish as, tears would spring to her eyes. “No," she would wail, “ Please sir, I can't lose

 this job. I didn't mean to be a rude, inconsiderate, snide, repulsive jerk!"

 The manager would shake his head vigorously, and close his eyes in

 frustration. “ Well," he'd say, “I can't keep you on the job. Treating

 young black students who are clearly exceptional as though they were the

 quotidian masses is a terrible thing that is no longer tolerated in this

 society. I'm going to have to let you go, I'm sorry."

 He would turn away to start serving someone who had just approached the

 ticket counter.

 “Sir, SIR!" she'd bawl, “My outright, atrocious, abominable, inexcusable,

 inexplicable, unpardonable, irreparable behavior yesterday toward that very

 intelligent and awesome and incredible and kind and generous, and fantastic

 young man is depressing I admit. But do you mean to damn MORE black young

 people? For in punishing me you harm, my young African American children!"

 The manager would continue serving the passenger at the desk, and then

 slowly turn to the the woman, having completed the check in process.

 “You have spoken cogently. Your argument is logical . Hmmmm," he'd mutter.

 As he would begin to ponder the situation, the phone would ring.  He would

 listen with a troubled expression and hang up with the words “I understand."

 Finally, he would turn to the employee who, by now, had begun packing her

 things to leave.

 “You have been forgiven, " the manager pronounced, looking at her with a

 perplexed expression, “ and restored to new life."