A French in America: Blacks Are Lazy

I met Nikola in New York. He was a doorman in a building, where a friend of mine lived. I saw him when I visited. Apart from some polite interaction, necessary when you visit someone in a doorman building, we had never really talked. But on a day of May 2018, we had a conversation for the first time. I asked for the keys to the apartment of my friend to whom I had promised to go over often and water her plants during her absence. Nikola, who had a name tag pinned on his uniform, asked for my name. He wanted to check if my friend had left instructions in their system to give me the keys. Once he confirmed my friend’s instructions, he addressed me: <a href="https://medium.com/@lucolinga72/a-french-in-america-blacks-are-lazy-4dbfdd583af7">Read More</a>