There is a cure for this "upset" feeling: Learn to speak English. If I can learn to say "tortilla" and "guacamole" then surely the "upset" people can manage to say "cheesesteak." Heck, on a good day I can even say "croissant" although it pains me to do so.
How hard can it be? Mexicans can speak it...
Yes, but do you say it with that little semi-nasal grunt? That is essential, you know, especially when you order it with your latte.
That is my one big concern with the job in the new location. Most of the county is nice, but there is one town that houses a Tyson plant. That is the armpit of the county. Driving though some areas down there, you'd think you were in an urban ghetto. Illegals have trashed an otherwise beautiful little town. Even the closest Walmart, which used to be one of the nicest in the state, has deteriorated significantly, and there is nearly a whole isle where everything is in Mexican Spanish.
I was coming out of there the other day and there was this one greasy looking Mexican thuling around in a brand new shiny red car, blasting the most obnoxious music noise you ever heard. I'm thinking, "here's this guy getting a bank loan for a car that is probably being paid for by taxpayers while he's sending all his earned, and unclaimed, income back to Mexico. He's cashing in on the what used to be the American dream. Only problem is, he's stealing it from Americans by robbing us of our culture by impudently imposing his on us."
I am afraid that the first time I get sent out to investigate a family who is clearly illegal, I will lose the ability to demonstrate my usual fairness and compassion. It is a matter of conscience for me. Unless I am on stage, I am incapable of pretending to be something I'm not. I can be objective in most situations, but I'm afraid this may not be one of them.