Shortly after arriving in Detroit, I was driven to the Dodge Main personnel office. Benches filled most of the room where job seekers filled out applications and sat waiting to be interviewed. Across from us were the Personnel Department staff. They worked behind a counter and ceiling-high glass barrier, presumably put in place to protect them from acts of frustration by disappointed job seekers. Most of the applicants were black. There was little conversation. We kept to ourselves.

After some time, an older, white member of the personnel staff rapped on the glass partition. I looked up and noticed that he was looking straight at me. He motioned to me to come to a section of the barrier through which we could talk.

“What’s your name?” I told him. He looked through the pile of application forms and found mine. “I am going to do you a big favor. I am going to make you an inspector. Go ahead and sit down, you’ll get called up again soon.”