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ACCOUNTING
It Wasnt About Race. Or Was It? by Jeffrey C. Connor
FROM THE SEPTEMBEROCTOBER 2000 ISSUE
Jack Parsons put the phone back on its cradle and pressed his fingers to his temples. Thiswasnt his first crisis as managing partner of the Northeast office of Fuller Fenton, a nationalaccounting firm, but it was a doozy. That was his 11th phone call about what had happened the day before between Hope Barrows and Dillon Johnson, two hard-working, valuable members of
the firm. And he was certain that the deluge was just beginning. Each caller had been very upset,
and it was painfully clear that no one was willing to back down. The firmor at least all the people
under Jacks purviewseemed to be splitting into two angry camps.
He thought back to the first phone call hed received, at 7:30 that morning, from an associate who
had talked to Dillon the night before. I always suspected this was a racist organization
masquerading as a good company, the caller railed at him. Im sick about this, and Im telling you,
so are a lot of other people. We wont work in a racist environment!
The last call had been equally charged but on a different tack. The caller was a female partner whom
Jack had known for years. This had nothing to do with race. Nothing at all! she practically
shouted. If a woman cant feel safe in the parking lot of her own company, thats pretty sad.
The story was really quite simplethe basic facts werent in dispute. Hope, a partner at Fuller
Fenton, had gone to the office Sunday afternoon to get a jump on the workweek, as she often did.
When she arrived at the parking garage, she swiped her access card and the exterior door opened. As
she drove up to the inner gatethe usual point of security during business hours, when the garage
door was openDillon pulled in under the exterior door as it was closing. Hope stopped at the gate
and, instead of swiping her card, got out of her car and walked over to Dillon. She asked who he was
and whether he belonged in the building. Dillon told her he was an associate at Fuller Fenton. Hope
asked to see his identification, and he showed her his card. Hope thanked him, went back to her car,
and entered the garage. Hope was white. Dillon was black. Somehow the incident, as small as it
seemed, had started a storm that was threatening to tear the company in two.
And it was only Monday afternoon. It certainly hadnt taken long for things to heat up. Jack pressed
his fingers harder into his temples and let out a small groan. Dillon had been on the phone to him
from San Francisco at 5 am Pacific time. He had flown there the night before to meet with a client.
Hed been up most of the night. He was angryappalled. He said the incident, as far as he was
concerned, was an indication that the firm was racially biased. Judging from the calls Jack had
received, most of the firms African-American partners and associates agreed.
Jack had asked Dillon to tell him exactly what happened. Dillon said he was working out at his
health club when he got a call on his cell phone from a fellow associate, Shaun Daniels. The two had
planned to meet at the office later that afternoon to review the file for Dillons San Francisco client.
Shaun asked if they could push up their meeting because he had to be somewhere at 4 pm . Dillon
was grateful Shaun had agreed to meet with him on a Sunday, and he knew they had several hours of
work to get through, so he rushed from the gym and drove to the office.
He pulled into the driveway of Fuller Fentons garage behind a red Volvo. The car just seemed to be
parked at the door. I remember thinking, Whats taking this person so long to swipe their card?
he told Jack. Then I thought, Wheres my card? and I started looking through the pile of clothes on
the passenger seat for my wallet.
Then the door opened, the Volvo went through, and I didnt even think; I just followed, Dillon
continued. Then the car stopped again. I thought, What is this? and I tried to see who was in the
car. I could see it was a woman, and she was looking at me in her rearview mirror. So I waved. And
waited.
She gets out of her car, comes over to me, and asks me if I work in the building. I say yes, and she
asks me for my identification. I recognized her, you knowdidnt know her name, but Id seen her in
the building.
I was confused. I didnt know what the problem was. Then I realized that she thought I had slipped
through the door behind her because I was some sort of criminal. Im black; shes white. Most people
at the company are white. Case closed, in her mind.
What happened next? Jack prompted.
I told her my name, Dillon said. I found my wallet and showed her my identification. But Jack, I
have to tell you, at that moment, all I could think was that this wasnt the first time Id been made to
feel like an outsider at this company because Im black. When I signed on, I heard a lot of talk about
how Fuller Fenton was reinventing itself as an incredibly diverse, versatile organization. But my
experience tells a different story.
My first week here, one of the administrative assistants saw the wedding photo I have on my desk.
She looked really surprised, and then she said, Your wife is very light skinned.
I laughed and said something like, Amy is white. But the look I got? It was disapproving, almost
like she was disgusted. Dillons voice trailed off. Then he said, I know I could cut her some slack.
Shes one of the older assistants, and shes been here a long time. But it stung. She hasnt talked to
me directly since.
He was quiet for another moment. Jack waited. That was the smallest incident, Dillon said. After
four months here, remember I was going to be on the team for that consumer goods company in
Texas? I was put on and taken off within 48 hours. I found outactually just last night, when I was
venting to a colleague about this incidentthat the partner heading the team was worried a black
face would put the client off.
Jack shook his head; of course, Dillon couldnt see him, but he answered as if he had. Jack, I know
its true. And maybe the guy had a pointthat client is a very old-line kind of company. But still, if
this company is serious about diversity, is that any way to behave? Thats not the kind of company I
thought I was joining. And its certainly not the kind of company Im going to keep working for.
Jack knew the last story was correct. In fact, hed argued with the partner about the way Dillon was
treated. And hed hoped, at the time, that it would be just one of those things and that he could work
to prevent it from happening again.
I called four or five colleagues last night, Dillon continued. I asked them if I was imagining this.
They all said no. This time it cant just be water under the bridge, Jack.
Jack reassured Dillon as best he could. He told Dillon he was a valued employee and that hed do
some digging, that they would all work to resolve the situation. As soon as he hung up the phone, he
called Hope and left a message asking her to come see him.
I tried to call you earlier, Hope said when she entered Jacks office. Ive heard a lot of rumors
going around about what happened yesterday, and I have to tell you, Im shockedtotally shocked. I
didnt ask for Dillon Johnsons identification because he was black. I asked for it because I was
freaked out that a man was following me into the garagea man who didnt seem to have an access
card of his own.
I was only concerned for my own safety, she said. He could have been white, or purple, for all I
cared. I thought there was a good chance I was going to be robbed. Or raped. Asking for his
identification was the fair thing to do.
Hope took a deep breath and told Jack the story from the beginning. She often came into the office
on Sundays, she explained. She liked the quiet; she got a lot done. She knew that at least a few other
people felt the same way. Occasionally she would see other cars in the lot, and sometimes she would
see people coming or going.
But she didnt recognize Dillons car, and she didnt recognize Dillon. What was he thinking, Jack?
she asked, indignant. Im not the one who was insensitive here. Dillon Johnson was insensitive to
me by piggybacking behind me when I opened the garage door. Didnt he know that any woman
would feel vulnerable, and potentially threatened, if any manor anybody, truth be toldevaded
security measures to follow her into a deserted garage? Why didnt he just wait the extra 15 seconds
and use his own card?
You know, I really never should have gotten out of my car, she chided herself. I should have just
called security. But I was thinking, Better to confront him now than to put myself in possible
jeopardy deep in the garage with no one else around.
To be honest with you, I was also thinking about two of my friends who have been mugged. One in
a parking garage, the other on a subway platform. Neither was hurt. Well, my friend Alice strained
her back trying to twist away from the subway mugger, but she got off easy, considering. And I was
thinking about what my husband said to me, two years ago now, when I started coming in here on
Sundays. He asked me if I was sure that it was safe to come in when the building was deserted. He
asked me to carry my cell phone at all times.
Hope paused, then continued, smiling. I laughed at my husband when he said that, she said. He
grew up in Manhattan. Her smile faded. I did have my cell phone in my hand when I got out of the
car, she said. I had punched in 911, and my finger was on the send button.
I didnt recognize him, she said again. I didnt recognize his car. He was wearing a T-shirt. Not that
that matters, really. No one dresses up here on Sundays. Still, no one usually wears T-shirts, either. I
did feel a little silly, at one point, before I got out of the car. I mean, I was telling myself that whoever
it was was just coming in to work and had been too lazy to get out his card. But scared overruled
silly.
And in no wayno waywas I acting out of any racial prejudice. Come on, Jack, this guy has some
personal chip on his shoulder, and hes putting all his baggage on me. I was scared, for Gods sake.
Jack listened and, at the end of the meeting, told Hope he would think about what to do. It was clear,
he said, that she and Dillon should sit down in the same room to discuss the issue. He would set up
the meeting and get back to her. Meanwhile, he told her, he did see her point. Not to worry about
that.
For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, Jack fielded angry calls. He also called the human
resources department and set up a meeting with Hope, Dillon, himself, and the regional HR director
for Wednesday morning at 10, as soon as Dillon returned from San Francisco.
He hoped he could hold things together until then. He would, of course, continue to field calls and try
to calm people down as best he could. But what else could he do? For that matter, what was he going
to do at the meeting?
What is Jacks next step?
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