You'll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey

by Amber Ruffin

  One summer in the mid ’90s, I went on a vacation to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. It was a fun trip through the mountains even though there wasn’t another Black person in sight. I walk into a lovely store that sells trinkets and tourist stuff. It’s pretty darn cute. And what’s even better, the lady behind the counter sees me and is happy! This does not happen a lot, period. Much less in the middle of the mountains. So this lady runs up to me, a Black lady, smiling from ear to ear. She is like, “Yay! Whoopeeee!” And I, being a natural improviser, yell right back, “Yay! Whoopity doo!” No one’s ever been so happy to see me that they exclaim like that before. But this lady has me believing that those people are wrong and this is the only way I should ever be greeted. The lady runs up to me and says, “Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re in my store!” I’m thinking, Who in the world does she think I am? The lady insists that I take whatever I want—on the house! I politely thank her while I suss out the situation. Maybe she is so glad to see a Black person she wants to give me free stuff? It’s possible. You never know what a white person is gonna do.

  She says, “I’m your biggest fan. I’ve loved you since Jumpin’ Jack Flash!” That’s when I realize this woman thinks I’m Whoopi Goldberg. She was yelling “Whoopi” as in “Goldberg,” not “Whoopeee” as in “Yippidee doo.” Now, this woman doesn’t just think I look like her, which happens to both of us a lot, but she thinks I am her. Now I’m having quite a conundrum. It is not right to take T-shirts that are meant for Whoopi Goldberg. But, on the other hand, free T-shirts. Who was I to reject this compliment? I love Whoopi Goldberg! I look into the lady’s eyes and realize that Whoopi Goldberg being in her store has made her year. It would be wrong not to take five T-shirts and leave. So I do.

  Here are some pictures of people I have been told I look like next to pictures of me trying my best to look like them.

  Some “No Service” Stories

  Lacey loves Omaha Fashion Week. She goes every year. Omaha Fashion Week is a big deal fashion show and expo where Omaha showcases a lot of its talented designers. It’s really fun and Lacey loves supporting local businesses.

  I think it’s inspiring to see what my neighbors have come up with! They’re right here, in Omaha!

  Y’all, this nerd loves Omaha and all our events and fund-raisers and gatherings. She’s a nerd for Omaha events.

  So do you!

  Oh my god, I do! We are both nerds.

  One year, Lacey went with friends and the whole show was fun, but she became fixated on one specific designer. Her dresses were amazing. Lacey started to think, Amber needs one of these for the Emmys! (I love to go every year to lose.) At the end of the show you can meet the designers and ask how to purchase different pieces. There’s a long line to wait in to meet this designer. Lacey doesn’t care; she’s mesmerized by glamour! She waits the fifteen minutes in line to talk to her and when she gets to the front she meets her associate. Lacey asks if she can meet the designer, who is standing a few feet away. The associate says to Lacey, “Her pieces are really expensive.” In no way was that an answer to her question. Now, a few things could be happening here.

  Possibility 1: This could be your traditional white person who thinks Black people spend too much on stuff we can’t afford. It feels good for them to tell Black people they can’t afford things because treating grown Black men and women like children makes them feel superior.

  Or:

  Possibility 2: This could be that thing where white people don’t want to be associated with you because it would make people think less of them. Maybe they want to be known as a very bougie brand and they think that Black people wearing their clothes will do the opposite.

  Or:

  Possibility 3: We found a mean old bitch who was smack dab in the middle of being a mean old bitch.

  Or:

  Possibility 4: They’re just looking out for you. Just kidding. I put this here just so you know that this category is exactly Possibility Number One!

  Doesn’t matter what’s going on here. She’s not the designer. Lacey ignores her. She even has pity for the designer for having an asshole of an assistant. Surely this designer whose clothes spoke to Lacey’s soul would be different. Lacey walks right up to the designer and says, “Hello! Are you the designer?” Without missing a beat, this woman says, “These are exclusive, one-of-a-kind runway pieces and they’re very expensive.” Well, what do you fucking know? All this while Lacey thought she was in Omaha. Turns out, she had walked into an Armani fashion show! So sorry, Donatella Versace. She thought she was supporting her community! Whoops! Excuse me, Gucci! I thought this was the kind of fashion show that was open to the public where people stand in a line and get to talk to the designer! Sorry for wanting to tell you you’re great and purchase your dresses. That’s Omaha.

  Lacey loudly replies, “Wow, you’re really rude. Is that how you talk to Black people? Well, thanks, because your attitude just saved me”—looks at the price tag—“575 dollars! 575 dollars? This only costs 575 dollars? Wow. I thought this was supposed to be a runway piece. Thank goodness I didn’t buy this. I could have really embarrassed myself.”

  There is this very insane Black thing where people out loud will assume you have no money by just looking at you. Especially if you ask how much something costs. Sometimes when you ask, “How much is this?” people hear, “Do I have any business buying it?” It makes you wanna scream. No one is asking you to look at them and guess if they can afford it; people wanna know the frigging price! Do white people not ask what things cost? Ha ha ha—but also, for real, do they?

  Mom and Angie recently went to the grocery store together. And at this point, early in the book, I just want to say I am struck by how many of these stories happened after we sold this book. I mean, there were more than enough stories before we sold the book. But dang, I’m now realizing that like ten percent of these stories are brand-spankin’-new! Okay, all I’m saying is this is a lot. All right, so Mommy and Angie. They thought they might make lobster for the two of them. No one else in the family really likes it. In the fish department, they asked the guy how much lobster tails are and the Great Lobster Keeper replied, “They’re really expensive.” And it’s like, I didn’t ask you if you can afford a lobster tail. I asked how much they are! This shit is maddening. Mom mean-mugged this man and growled, “I’ll take four.” Instantly he knew what he had done. They watched as he silently packed up the four tails. The two of them ate lobster, like, six different ways. Now, are we rich? No. Can we afford to buy two frigging lobster tails at a dang supermarket one time? Yeah. But now that you’ve acted like a fool, we gotta eat four.

  Lacey went to a car dealership to buy a car. She was prepared to be harassed like car dealers do. To constantly be followed around. She walked in and there were no customers, so everyone was really into helping her. Not exactly what she wanted.

  Actually, I kind of love going to car dealerships because it is one of the few places where, even though you’re Black, people fall all over themselves to help you.

  It’s probably what being white is like.

  It’s fun, but I wouldn’t want that all the time.

  Too much.

  Can you imagine getting that service everywhere you went? Why, constantly being treated like you’re really important would turn you into a…a…

  A WHITE WOMAN?

  Did we just figure out why Karens Karen?

  Yes, we did.

  Anyway, Lacey immediately found the exact car she wanted, so there was nothing to do but search their inventory to compare each model to see which color and options were available. She goes into the office with one of the salesmen and slowly the place starts to get customers. There’s one customer for each salesman. Lucky! As Lacey sits in the office with her salesman, he’s putting in options on his computer to see which car has what she wants. The guy is moving kind of slow and, while Lacey doesn’t mind, this guy’s boss is pacing outside his office. He is so annoyed and Lacey sees w
hy. There is an additional customer who is not being helped. Now, instead of this man helping the additional customer himself, he wants this guy to do it, for some reason. His pacing is making Lacey’s salesman nervous. He says, “Let me ask my boss how to look this up.” And goes to talk to the pacing guy. The pacing guy points to the new customers and Lacey’s salesman goes to help them. Now there are three new customers waiting to be helped. The boss comes in to the office and says to Lacey, “I don’t think we have what you’re looking for.” Y’all. A car salesman had a sure thing and chose not to make a sale. He would rather roll the dice with the people who just walked in than sell a car to this woman with her fucking checkbook out. This is what Lacey gets for walking in there worried that she would get too much help! Too much help! I honestly can’t imagine.

  Omaha has a giant furniture store. This place is huge. It’s, like, a couple of blocks big. It’s so big and has so many employees that you never know what kind of service you’re gonna get. The whole shtick of the place was that it was owned by a supercute little old lady. She would appear in the commercials and it was adorable. Once, a million years ago, my parents bought a bedroom set from the showroom. They noticed that the bedroom set on the showroom floor was broken. They were assured that the one that would be delivered to their house would be perfect. But they delivered the broken one, and it fell apart. So my parents drove to this store to talk to someone about it. When they get there, absolutely no one will talk to them. So they demand to see the boss. And, for some reason, they let them! Mom and Dad walk into the office of the woman who owns this place. The real live sweet old lady from all of the commercials! She’s at her desk doing some work. My parents walk in and say, “Hello. We bought a bedroom set and when it was delivered, it completely fell to pieces.” The sweet old lady looks up from her work at my two Black parents and, without saying a word, waves them away. They leave and nothing gets fixed.

  Anyhoo, Lacey is at this furniture store. It’s literally decades later; I’m sure it’s gotten better. She sees a coffee table she is in love with. She looks for a price tag and there is none. She finds an employee and asks how much the coffee table is. Wouldn’t you know it, this bitch says, “Expensive,” and walks away. I mean, we are all on Lacey’s side here, but that is a straight-up hilarious thing to say.

  Amber!

  It is, though.

  Yeah. I guess you’re right.

  Agree to both think it’s funny and hate it?

  Agreed.

  Lacey is hot. She looks for a manager, finds one, and tells him what happened. The manager, completely missing the point, says, “I’ll look it up for you.” Fine. She’s mad, but also, how much is this coffee table? Why is this so hard? This manager finds the price and looks up from the screen and says, “Wow. It IS expensive!” Now, Lacey is fucking livid. She yells, “Ring it up.” Silently, the manager does. You guys. Y’all. You guys. The table was two hundred dollars. That is not what expensive is. Not for a coffee table. Also, again, don’t you want to sell these? Tell me I’m getting a great deal, you frigging idiot! It has to be said that we have all gone to this furniture store before and since and were treated perfectly. It was an anomaly that Lacey found two dum-dums in a row.

  Maybe my favorite story about this is: Once, Lacey’s best friend, Laura, asked how much a Rolex was. The lady who worked at the fancy watch store said, “I’m sorry, it’s really expensive.” Laura replied, “Bitch, I’ll take two.” She got two.

  I would bet this next story is one every Black woman in America has: Once, Lacey was walking through a department store in a mall. She hears music and sees lights and notices a big crowd over by the makeup counter. They’re doing makeovers and there’s a fashion show! Fun! Lacey watches one makeup artist doing a great job. She gives her customer this crazy eye makeup. Lacey’s in love. She’s determined to get that look. She doesn’t care how long she has to wait in line. She walks up to the makeup artist and says, “I love this lady’s eye makeup. How long would it take to do mine? “The lady looks at Lacey with full confidence and says, “It would take a while, but I would love to do that for you!” Cool! Lacey waits in line while the artist does other people’s makeup. This lady is doing an excellent job. Lacey is the only Black person in line, but that can’t be a problem. The lady was so nice and superconfident!

  When it’s finally Lacey’s turn, she sits in the chair and the makeup artist says, “Close your eyes.” Lacey assumes she’s starting on her eyes. But she feels her applying foundation. No matter the makeup person’s confidence, it’s always a toss-up with foundation. More often than not, lines of makeup simply don’t have your color, or the makeup artist doesn’t know how to find it, or both. Not what Lacey asked for and also not necessary. Lacey rarely leaves the house without a full face. But whatever. It’ll be fine. Lacey opens her eyes after her foundation is applied. And the first thing she sees is a white man standing across the way. He is looking at her the same way you would look at someone who was being hacked into a million pieces. This man is horrified. It is the same look that was on your face when you were watching the movie Alien and saw the alien burst outta that guy’s chest. It’s just makeup, but this man looks terribly concerned. Lacey doesn’t know him, but his face says it all. Something is very wrong. Before she closes her eyes for the makeup lady to apply the eye shadow, the man looks right at Lacey and shakes his head no. Lacey knew to be scared. It’s too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound. As she is applying the eye shadow, the artist is saying things like “It won’t look EXACTLY the same as the other lady because of the difference in your skin tones.” Lacey responds, “Yep.” She can feel her applying a thick layer of eye shadow from her eyelashes all the way up to her eyebrow. Whatever she’s doing, Lacey can feel it’s wrong. She’s scared. When it’s over, the lady hands Lacey the mirror. Lacey has never been so mortified in her life. The white guy is still there. They lock eyes. He is very sad in his heart, but he musters a Hang in there, champ kind of smile. Lacey is in whiteface. Her foundation is five shades too light. Just because you used the darkest foundation you have doesn’t mean it is dark enough. By the way, this is an ever-present struggle. To this day, some makeup lines you just can’t use.

  She used a color called White Person in a Tanning Booth.

  Not only was Lacey now a white woman, but her poor eye shadow. The lady did not come close to making Lacey’s eyes look like the previous customer’s. Lacey had a thick square of black eye shadow on each eye. No lipstick, no blush—just a ghost with black eyes. Lacey may not be the best at putting on makeup, but this she could have done herself. When Lacey told the artist the foundation wasn’t dark enough, she explained it was the darkest she had.

  As she walked away, Lacey was stopped by a makeup artist at a different booth who grabbed her and said, “We need to fix this.” They laughed as she cleaned Lacey’s face up. The makeup artist said, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Lacey: “I’m a magnet for this stuff.”

  Luckily, Lacey re-created the look just for us.

  “BEEEWARE WHO YOU LET DO YOUR MAKEUP! YOU COULD END UP HAUNTING THE MALL LIKE IIII DOOOOOO!”

  Your Name May Be on the List,

  but Because of Your Face,

  I’ll Never Check!

  Lacey loves going to Omaha events. It’s a fun chance to get dressed up, have a good time, and donate to a good cause. Lacey has a good friend who is often able to put her on the list. But almost every single time she goes, it’s the same. She walks up to the ticket table, tells them her name, they pretend to look, and they tell her there is no ticket waiting for her and her name is not on the list. But it is. It always is. She wouldn’t be coming up to them if it weren’t.

  Ice-T was in Omaha headlining a fund-raiser for a children’s home. They thought Lacey was not on the list because tickets were expensive. She was on the list.

  Lacey went to a health-care seminar—not a fancy fund-raiser, a health-care seminar—and when she gave her name to the woman,
without looking down she said, “Are you in the right place? This is a health-care seminar!” She was on the list.

  At a fund-raiser for the Girl Scouts, the ticket person gave her such a hard time that she almost didn’t get in! They went back and forth for a while. Lacey had to call her friend over to help her. She was on the list. She got in and right inside the door there were a few racks to hang your coats. As she hung her coat, a line formed behind her. People thought she was the coat-check girl! If she were smart, she would have stayed, taken coats, and made a few dollars. Instead, she told them she was not the coat-check girl.

  White Guys Trying Their Best

  Dating apps are fun! As long as it’s your sister doing the dating and getting the insane messages from strangers and sending you screenshots of them. When you’re on a dating app, anyone can send you messages. Even white guys who shouldn’t be. Here’s a little section of the book about that very phenomenon!

  Every Black person has been hit on by someone who makes it all about race. Speaking of “all about race”—this book! Okay, so imagine your name is Thor. Your parents were hippies; that’s why they chose that name. That’s not the point. Imagine how many times someone has learned your name and immediately made jokes about you being a god or lightning or thunder or hammers. By the time you’re ten, you’ve heard it all. That’s kind of what it’s like being Black. That and constant oppression. A white person thinks of a Black joke and immediately tells you. They think the situation you’re in together is special. It is not. They think they can come up with a Black joke you haven’t heard some iteration of before. They cannot. They think it shows you they’re comfortable with your Blackness. Nope. They think it’s fun for anyone involved. Big, juicy no. Even when I was eight, the last time I heard a new Black joke for the first time, it wasn’t fun. It has never been. It just reminds me that my being Black is on your mind when you see me. This isn’t about how a Black joke from a Black person can be affirming and fun and familiar and insightful. This is about how a Black joke from a white person is always exactly none of those things.