This particular evening the young man
w ho w orks the graveyard shift cam e stagger
ing in. He had obviously been drinking.
G reeting his co-w orker loudly, he disap
peared behind the counter.
Soon I heard his loud voice: "You dirty,
no-good fa g g o t. . . " I looked up from m y
gam e into blurry-eyed arrogance glaring at
m e from behind the counter ten feet away. If
he was standing next to me when he said it 1
w ould probably have felt threatened, but
since he put the counter that houses the
m icrow ave oven and the popcorn popper
between us, I didn’t feel that he was an im
m ediate th re a t Also the clerk on duty,
another teenager, was visibly em barrassed by
this hom ophobic outburst and he succeeded
in distracting his co-worker. I th o u g h t "how
boring,” and continued playing m y game.
A few m inutes later one o f m y co-workers,
Kenny, cam e in looking for me. K enny— like
m e — is in his m iddle thirties. The word that
com es to m ind when I think o f Kenny is
“ mean." He has a short fuse w hich has
caused him a few problem s in the workplace,
as shop steward I have helped him get out of
som e o f the trouble his tem per has gotten
him into. His tem per rules him , and even in
the best o f m oods he’s still very belligérant.
He started to ask me a question about an
upcom ing work-related investigation when
the young hom ophobe started up again:
"Faggot, queer, cocksucker," he called out to
me. He gave m y cow orker a contem ptuous
glance, then faded back into the background
as the embarrassed clerk distracted him
again.
Kenny gave me a look o f total disbelief. He
had never been on the receiving end of
hom ophobia before. And although he has
been around me at w ork where I’m well ac
cepted, this was his first experience with me
outside that safe environm ent He was very
uncom fortable. I sm iled at his discom fort
and said in a reassuring tone, “You see what
That's what friends
are for
by B illy Russo
O ne n ight last m onth I was playing my
favorite video gam e and sipping coffee at a
gas sta tio n /g ro ce ry/vid e o store near the VA
hospital where I work. I can be found there
m ost evenings after com pleting m y shift in
the VA kitchen where I wash dishes. I play one
o r tw o rounds o f “Mr. Do," drink one o r two
cups o f coffee, and head fo r home.
I’m w ell-know n in this fam ily-run business,
The
Roseburg
Report
I was an established fixture in the little store
long before the current owners and all their
em ployees cam e along. Anyone looking for
me in the early evening knows they can find
me there.
happens when you’re seen with me in pub
lic?” A nd gesturing flam boyantly I added,
“Y ou’re gonna get a bad reputation." He was
no t am used.
We resum ed ou r conversation about work
and quickly forgot about the youth. B ut it
w asn’t long before he was back again, this
tim e he appeared on our side o f the counter.
Facing Kenny w ith total contem pt on his
young face he jabbed his finger in Kenny’s
face and snarled, "You hang around him . You
m ust be queer, to o !”
Kenny had his arm s at his side, alternately
clenching his fists and flexing his fingers. He
was breathing hard and his eyes were actually
bulging. I had never seen him this angry; and
w hat happened next surprised even me.
Instead o f taking the young man by sur
prise w ith a kick to the groin or som e other
fo rm o f fisticuffs, he started scream ing at the
boy: “ I’m no fucking queer!" he raged. Point
ing an accusing finger at me, he continued,
" I’m not like him ___"
"My, oh my," I th o u g h t I could see the color
dran out o f the younger hom ophobe’s face
as he realised he had bitten o ff m ore than he
cou ld chew. He backed o ff and quickly dis
appeared.
Too angry to say anything else, Kenny
storm ed out o f the store and rode away on his
m otorcycle. The young hom ophobe re
m ained in the store but didn’t have any fire
left in him . I went back to m y video game.
The next day in the locker room I was
changing into m y uniform when Kenny came
in. He hates w ork and alm ost always starts the
day by kicking over a chair or two. There were
som e m en playing cards at a nearby table
and a couple o f guys reading the daily paper
and sm oking cigarettes.
Kenny stopped dead in his tracks and
groaned, “ Oh, oh," when I said in a loud voice
to a m an on the other side o f the locker room ,
"W ould you believe me if I told you that two
m en got into a fig ht over me last night?”
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