Once again, a privileged white man, who made his riches in one narrow area, comic stripping, now feels qualified to rant from his ivory tower. Based on the so-called results of a facile-worded poll question, “Is it OK to be white?” Dilbert creator claimed that that convinced him white people should live apart from black people.

Of course, I call bullshit. No one, not even a mansplaining privileged white man, is so easily convinced of such a radical position because of the result of a mere poll question. More than likely, his racial animus was well nurtured and brewed until it boiled over.

Since the concept of race is a pseudoscientific social construct of oppression, I’ll address all my questions to the fictional character, Dilbert. And why the hell not? The so-called basis for Dilbert’s creator’s call for racial separation is also based on fiction. The only difference is his fiction is far more dangerous.

• 1. Who should mixed-raced blacks live among? There’s no dilemma among those of us who identify as black, but would you allow blacks who identify as white to live among you, regardless of their skin tone? I imagine you consider yourself not racist, so would white-identifying blacks be able to live in your all-white society? Would they be allowed if they are culturally white and pass the brown paper bag test?
• 2. Is whiteness based on skin tone or cultural adherence? Would you allow those blacks who are so “articulate that you forget they’re black” to live in your all-white society? Or do they need to be on-sight white, regardless of how well they speak, hard they work, or how much money they make? Who gets to shield themselves under the umbrella of whiteness, sparing them from the debilitating drench of racist exclusion?
• 3. Would any other race of people who are also richly melaninated, but not black, be permitted to live in your all–white community? Would South East Asians, Pacific Islanders and Latinos be allowed to live among whites if they can easily pass a comb through their hair, regardless of if they can pass for white? In other words, how dark is too dark for people who cannot sport an afro?
• 4. Does a Jewfro count as an afro? Would you allow Jews to live in your all-white society, regardless of whether they can naturally style their hair into a Jewfro or not? Or will your sequestered-from-blacks society solely depend on having a low melaninated skin tone?
• 5. If I’m 1/16th white, does that make me less racist against whites, according to your calculations? BTW, my mother is 1/8th white. Would you consider her a “reverse octoroon”?
• 6. In your all white community, would you regulate media so that no racially-diverse programing is experienced? Would you permit black music or any genre based on black music? Would you only play black music if only covered by white people? Would you form parallel versions of professional sports? How separated do you need to be from blacks?
• 7. In your white society, who would you hire others to do those jobs where whites are underrepresented in an integrated society? Even the founding fathers embraced diversity when it came to the workforce, especially jobs that were deemed unsuitable for respectable white people.
• 8. Lastly, if you achieve your all-white society who will be the new niggers?

I knew it was a check before I opened the envelope. Peeking from behind the window, which revealed my name and address, was the telltale “check” paper.

I tore open the envelope, noted the check amount and dreamed of what I could do with the money. I set it aside to eat dinner. As the high from an unexpected monetary windfall subsided, I recovered my senses.

First of all, why would the U.S. Treasury issue me a refund in a higher amount than what I’d just paid in back taxes? Thirdly, why did they send me a check instead of issuing the refund via direct deposit like all my other refund “checks”?

I’d planned to deposit the check via my mobile app after dinner. Instead, I researched how to tell if a check is fraudulent. While doing so, I learned that one popular scam was to mail a fake U.S. Treasury check, then the IRS con artist calls up the recipient, telling them that the U.S. Treasury had made a mistake. At that point, the recipient has to refund the “U.S. Treasury” the money. The way the con works is that the scammer has to contact the recipient before the check “clears,” which it won’t because it’s fake to begin with.

Here’s what I didn’t understand: how do the con artists know when the check has been deposited? After all, to call before the recipient has deposited it won’t work. Also, waiting too late to call, the recipient would know that the check is fake. How does the con artist know where the sweet spot is?

The check stated that it was good for a year, which meant I had no urgency to deposit it. As a matter of fact, I looked up the number for the IRS, so I can give them a call on my day off. If there was a slim chance that that thing was real, I wanted confirmation. Plus, I could go to my bank one Saturday, and have them verify the check.

In the meantime, I practiced in my head what I’d say to the scammer if they called. Every suspicious call that came in since receiving that check made me wonder if it was the scammer calling. No one left a message. They called while I was at work, so I didn’t answer nor call back.

Trying to talk to a live person at the IRS, was more challenging than seeing the Wizard of Oz without Dororthy’s companions. Out of frustration, I called the number on the back of the envelope. The woman provided me the number for the Department of the US Treasury in Kansas City. When I called the number, a man answered who didn’t bother to ask any HIPAA questions when I said I wanted tto verify if a check was real.

He directed my attention to the QR code in the upper right-hand corner. Beneath the QR code was a number, which I recited to him. He told me the amount of the check and stated that it was real.

In that moment, I thought, “Yeah, right.” So I call the number on the back of the envelope in which the check came and suddenly, I talk not to one, but two live people and the check was real. Well, at least I kept a cool head, noting that after breakfast, the bank would be open and I could open an account with that check. If anything funny happened after I deposited the check, at least it wouldn’t fuck up my money.

I asked the bank employee who stood near the door if she were the manager. She wasn’t, but asked how she could help. I explained my situation. She agreed that I could open a new account. Or, one of the tellers could verify the check.

Once the teller typed in all the check information, she turned the monitor to me, showing me the green check.

After all that shaky shit, the check was real. I went ahead and deposited it, telling all who were listening to my story that they were my witnesses.

Even so, it’ll take me a while to feel okay about letting my balance dip below a certain amount just in case.

Edible Incentive

In a workshop about developing my own personal brand, the presenter stated that a branding statement consisted of three P’s: portable skills (What do I do well?), previous experience (What is my greatest strength/accomplishment?), and personal passion (What would I like to do and why?)

After writing my personal brand, I was about to recycle the piece of paper where I’d written down the template. Instead, I gifted it to my nephew. Figuring he wouldn’t write a personal brand unless there was a proper incentive in place, I knew he had a few things that he would actually work for. The idea of promoting himself to get a promotion was far too abstract.

So, I asked him what his favorite hamburger was. He named two. One I’d never heard of before. Nonetheless, I told him that if he wrote his personal brand, I’d buy him one of his favorite burgers.

Two weeks later, I took a day trip to attend a dance competition. My friend and I grabbed a quick bite at a fast food restaurant where I ordered the burger I’d never had before. One thing for sure, I could only eat the burger in one settling. I saved the fries for breakfast, which I warmed up in an air fryer to get them nice and crispy. Even so, I split half of them with Dad because there were so many of them.

Not only did I want to try out the burger, which wasn’t anything spectacular except for the caloric intake, but I wanted to text the photo op to my nephew. He knew exactly why I’d sent the picture. Even so, he still hasn’t written his personal brand yet.

Although a free burger tends to taste better than one you pay for yourself, my nephew apparently views the job of writing his personal brand a Herculean task.

Nonetheless, I’m not going to nag him about it. If he doesn’t want a free burger, then I’ll save my money. One thing I cannot save is someone who won’t try to help themselves out of a dead-end job.

Miraculous Branding Statement