Black Buck(100)
“We’ll be watching, Clyde. You can count on us. Back to you, Chet.”
Reader: Hell hath no fury like a white man scorned. Especially in the world of business. If you’re going to do something to piss them off, be prepared for them to strike back sooner or later.
Rhett turned to me. “What did I tell you?”
What did he tell me? He told me a lot of things, almost too many to keep track of. I shrugged.
“I told you,” he said, balancing the pool stick on his neck like a peasant carrying water buckets, “that Clyde was well-connected and angry, that he could either do something very good or very bad. And now he’s like the sales version of Hitler. Who knows what he’s capable of.”
“You’re right. But what does this have to do with me?”
He paused, placed the pool stick down, and stared at me. “That’s a good question, Buck. What does this have to do with you?”
My heart beat harder than a racist cop in Kentucky. I was doing all I could not to choke, sweat, or fidget. “Stop with the games, Rhett,” I said, steadying my voice. “What is it you want to know?”
He rounded the coffee table in front of the couch and bent forward at the waist until we were eye to eye. “I want to know whether you’re involved with these Happy Campers. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you’re not behind this. Because if you are, you’re compromising everything we’ve done here by bringing race into the mix. If you hadn’t noticed, race isn’t all that popular a topic these days, especially for startups.”
Funny. Race was popular when he brought me on Rise and Shine, America for “optics.” I gripped the black leather couch, held his stare, and said, “I am not in any way involved with the Happy Campers. I have enough on my plate with you and Barry, man. You think I have the time to go play Huey Newton? Come on, Rhett.”
He stared a moment longer, searching. Then he smiled and walked toward the windows. “Good, that’s all I needed to hear. Especially because I’m going to need you now more than ever.”
“What’s going on?”
“The business is doing well, we’re growing and closing a record number of deals, but it feels stale around here,” he said, staring out a window overlooking the East River. “We’re not innovating anymore, Buck. The board’s contented with the positive growth, but that’s not what’s going to take us to the next level.”
“So what is?”
He turned around, grinning. “A conference. Every major player has one. HubSpot, Salesforce, you name it.”
“Great,” I said, happy he’d have something other than me and the Happy Campers to focus on. “When is it?”
“End of this month. Friday, September twenty-seventh. We’re going to bring in A-list speakers, have a concert, and cement ourselves as the premier thought leader in SaaS therapy.”
“That all sounds expensive, man. And a few weeks isn’t a long time to make this happen.”
He laughed. “You’re right, which is why marketing has been on it for the past three months behind the scenes. And all I need from you is to show up, give a presentation on why diversity matters, and make everyone fall in love with you.”
I shifted on the couch, failing to get comfortable. “I don’t get it. You just said race isn’t popular. Why would I present on diversity?”
He walked back toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Race isn’t popular, Buck. It’s a dirty word. But diversity isn’t. Everyone’s talking about it. And the more people talk about it, the more attention it’ll bring to whoever’s leading the charge. And since you’ve hired more than a handful of”—he paused—“people of color, who better to present on this than you, right?”
I began to pity Rhett then. He was so smart and saw so much, yet he was still a prisoner to his limited worldview. But it wasn’t my problem.
“Right,” I replied. “I get it. Great idea. Can’t wait.”
“Now that’s the Buck I know.”
* * *
A week later, the Talented Fifth, which was what everyone called HC’s leadership—Rose, Brian, Ellen, Jake, and I—met to discuss how we were going to fight WUSS. The ideas ranged from too moderate, like writing blog posts and sending them to major news outlets, to too extreme, like doing a drive-by on their headquarters. So we all decided that something in the middle would be an appropriate first line of attack.
When we shared the plan with all of the Happy Campers on Wednesday, they were as divided as white teens after reading Twilight. But instead of #TeamJacob and #TeamEdward, we had #TeamTooSoft and #TeamJustRight. Jason, the main voice for #TeamTooSoft, stood after we explained our plans, and said, “Y’all niggas are straight pussy, I swear, bro.”
“No need for that, bruh,” Jake said, stepping toward him.
“Nah, y’all actin’ like a bunch of Uncle Toms and mammies. We need to go Nat Turner on these crackers and blow they whole shit up. If not, it’s jus’ gonna get worse. Watch.”
“I d-d-disagree,” Trey, a member of #TeamJustRight, said, stepping between Jake and Jason. “This is a good f-first attack to see what we’re dealing with. And to see how the public r-r-reacts.”