“What is it sir?”, I ask cautiously.
“You know what it is. There are black people at my lunch counter. I want them out of my restaurant.” His face is red with anger.
“I’m sorry sir…”
“I don’t care if you’re sorry! If you want to keep this job, you will kick those people out. Greensboro Woolworth’s serves white people ONLY. You of all people should know this.”
“I’ll try to do better next time, Mr. Scott”
“You better. Now go home.” With that, he storms away. I get my stuff and start to walk home.
While I’m walking down Main Street, a young man comes up to me.
“Hey ma’am, are you the waitress from Woolworth’s?” He asks me.
“Yeah that’s me. Who are you?”
“I’m Joseph. …show more content…
Mcneil said that the meeting was being held. At exactly 6:25, I arrive.
Even though I am white, the people here are glad to see me. I was afraid that they would misunderstand and show hostility towards me for not serving them, but they are in turn incredibly welcoming. They tell me of their nonviolent protest, and their sit ins.
“Greensboro is just the beginning. Soon we’ll have black people at the counters of Birmingham and Memphis.”, says Franklin McCain, one of the four men who started the movement. HIs voice echoes around the church. I can tell he truly believes in this movement.
After the meeting, I talk with Joseph Mcniel.
“What can I do to help?” I ask him.I now understand that getting involved is the only way to stop segregation.
“Actually, I was just about to ask you for a favor.” Mr. Mcneil says. “It would really help us if you could talk with your manager about opening up the lunch counters.”
“I’ll definitely speak with him.” I smile, glad to know that I can help out.
The next day at work, I head straight to Mr. Scott’s office.
“Mr. Scott, we need to open up the lunch counters.”
“No way. This is my restaurant. And here, I will segregate. And if you continue to be stupid and ‘black loving’, then consider yourself fired.” His eyes are glistening with hate and anger as he spits out his