His Guardian Angel
Dino loved both his jobs.
In the morning he worked as a security guard in a shopping centre. His colleagues were mainly male ex cops or servicemen.
In the afternoon he worked as a driver for a charity supporting BAME women in vulnerable circumstances, delivering food parcels and clothes. His colleagues were mostly vegan.
Dino was not one for confrontations and would smile gently and nod when one set of colleagues told him the reason his cousin had been overlooked for a civil service job was because all jobs were now being given to asylum seekers and transgender women.
He would also smile gently and nod when colleagues at the charity said that the latest traffic calming measures in the city centre represented a patriarchal approach which discriminated against women and people of colour.
Dino was quite content with his double life. He had two work bags in his car, one, an Adidas sports bag, contained a flask of tea with twelve sugars, a kit kat, a Cornish pasty to heat in the microwave and a copy of the Daily Mail. The other was a whicker affair which contained a flask of soup made of Dryad’s saddle fungus, quinoa, home grown rhubarb and kale. In this bag he also had a copy of the Guardian.
One day he placed the wrong newspaper in the wrong bags.
He noticed just in time to hide the Guardian as he unwrapped his kit Kat on morning teabreak.
Harry, his particularly loud mouthed colleague did not see anything untoward being too busy reading headlines from his own copy of the Sun out loud.
“Look at this” shouted Harry apoplectically, “Workers might be forced to undertake “Tolerance” training, former Tory MP, Quentin De Fortius, described the move by loony left councillors as “political correctness gone mad!”
“Like to see them try to get me on tolerance training!” shouted Harry bluntly before looking at his CCTV monitor and shouting “Look at those thieving Somali bastards coming out of WHSmiths!”
Dino hurried to grunt in shocked agreement but somehow the words wouldn’t come out.
He heard a tiny cough from the newspaper in his bag.
“How do you know they’ve stolen anything?” Dino found himself asking against his will.
“Look at their fucking clothes!” jeered Harry “all fucking knock off, all of them are thieving dirty bastards!” Dino paused.
“Go on” said the Guardian.
“I don’t think you should categorise people you don’t know in that way” said Dino, “Especially as you’ve no evidence they’ve committed any crimes and don’t know anything about their circumstances. In particular I wish you wouldn’t be so judgemental.”
Then, whilst Harry sat open mouthed, Dino launched into a long explanation on the history of the British Empire and Britain’s exploitation of Africa before ordering a shocked Harry to keep his opinions to himself. For the rest of the afternoon, egged on by his newspaper Dino challenged every lazy opinion his colleagues put forward.
After his colleagues had departed in shocked silence. Dino felt a surge of pride as the Guardian whispered “well done Dino!”
As he drove to his next place of work, Dino felt like a new man. Having had finally asserted himself he decided he was always going be outspoken from now on.
He entered the charity offices proudly gripping his copy of the Daily Mail..