The following SJW episode is based on true events. The timeline and some information have been withheld to protect the dissident. Additionally, the following is probably one of the most ridiculous conversations that I have ever had at work – I am a supervisor and we make widgets. The widgets we make are for the automotive industry and we are a non-union shop. Even though it is non-union, it is still automotive, so you can imagine there are a number of ridiculous policies in place to protect against lawsuits and the company normally genuflects to mass media propaganda.
The work is hot, dirty, and labor intensive. Even though the money is good, you still can’t get too many people that want to do that type of work. The company doesn’t have very big profit margins, it is pursuing automating many jobs, but with low margins it has been bought and sold a few times and this makes getting equipment more difficult. I tell you all this so that you can imagine hiring people to stay, or even start working here, has its challenges. Supervisors commonly have to enforce rules and regulations, and then have Human Resources (HR) turn around and say never mind it’s “okay.” This is the same HR that gave us the rules and told us to enforce them in the first place.
With all that background out of the way, let’s get to the importance of this anonymous rant. There was a day not too long ago when a guy came in wearing a 3%er (or III%er, Threeper) t-shirt. I am sure I do not need to explain what a three percenter is to the folks that read this website, but I will just cover the basics. Three percenters are listed as a Far Right, militia, anti-government group. Their main focus is the Second Amendment. Also, they’re listed by the grifting ADL as an extremist group (yawn). I have seen people from all walks of life with three percenter merchandise, and while I truly believe that the three percenter founders may have had a purpose, it basically has turned into a merchandise brand. We could probably spend all day on the foibles or greatness of the three percenters, beginning with the basis of the name that only 3% of Americans fought in the Revolutionary War or the clear desire to defend the Second Amendment. That, though, is a discussion for the comments or another time.
I believe we can all agree that there is nothing in the three percenter logo that is hate speech or outright derogatory – it’s the Roman numeral three, with a ring of stars. This is hardly inflammatory in the least, it’s not a burning cross or a swastika. So, this is what it boils down to – a guy wearing a shirt with this logo on it. I don’t know if he is even an official member of the group or anything. Well, another employee saw the shirt and basically goes into the “I’m offended meltdown tantrum.” This shouldn’t be allowed and, as a supervisor, I should have sent him home to cool off. Now, on top of all this, I must remind you that this is a dirty work environment, so the company provides flame retardant uniforms. The individual with the shirt was going from the entrance to the locker room to change into work clothes, probably a span of two football fields. Many employees come in wearing anything from sweats and hoodies to nice jeans and a polo, because they are going to change into a company uniform anyway.
The “offended” employee threw a fit and starts blathering about the racist connotations of the group and the shirt shouldn’t be allowed and blah blah blah – basically, 15 minutes of my life I will never get back. As a supervisor, I am required to listen, I do so and go on about my business. As far as I was concerned, this conversation is over and we can move on with our real job. The next morning, as I am finishing up my reports and packing my stuff up to head home, I receive a call from HR. As you would expect, the ridiculousness continues.
I go into the HR manager’s office and sit down. We do the small talk thing for a bit, before diving into the issue at hand. The HR manager then starts with, “There was a complaint that an employee was wearing an offensive shirt last night and you were informed about it. Tell me what happened.” I gave her a professional rundown of the incident and she let out a long sigh. She thanked me for my time and said that she will talk to her manager and let me know if anything will come of it.
Later that day, I received an email that there is a revision to the dress code that will take place immediately. The previous dress code was pretty standard: no ripped jeans, shorts must be down to the knee, no offensive shirts with foul language, etc. It was fairly straight forward and the employee that complained had done so on the premise that the shirt was offensive. The new dress code said that only plain shirts were acceptable and the only logo permitted on shirts would be the company logo. Clearly, the decision was made for avoidance instead of just allowing for common sense to rule the day.
Now that I have given you the story, I will add a few more items. This facility is full of people from many different walks of life – Mexican, Puerto Rican, Burmese, African, black, white, Central American, gay, straight, etc. I will tell you that it is extremely satisfying to watch an (actual) African look at some entitled brat and say, ”Do you always have to be such a f*cking [redacted], I am not your brother and you are not oppressed, shut up and do your job.” With that, I am sure you have created a mental image of the complainer and a mental image of the one wearing the shirt.
However, the individual that complained about the shirt being racist wasn’t a black guy, it was a straight white guy. What the hell does this guy even care about, other than to make himself feel important? As usual, the great social justice warrior strikes again. This is what mainstream and social media has created with its white guilt – there’s a racist, Nazi monster lurking under your bed or working in plain sight at your job. Instead of coming to work to build widgets, we have folks snitching and complaining in order to make the world a “safer place” from the Roman numeral three – so brave.
-By Dixie Anon
O I’m a good old rebel, now that’s just what I am. For this “fair land of freedom” I do not care at all. I’m glad I fit against it, I only wish we’d won, And I don’t want no pardon for anything I done.
