Addendum.

Later that night, at my 5^th bar of the night, after the NCAA championships had ended, I was at a dark wood-panelled bar in a rich neighborhood that was clearing out from the sports-watching crowd, and there was this rich (white) businessman in his mid-50s who was having one of those conversations I’ve seen with the bartender that substitutes for real interaction, where the businessman is lonely and makes an observation, and the bartender replies politely and perfunctorily.

“Margaret Thatcher died today,” the guy was like.

“Yes,” the young (white) male bartender was like.  “MS, I hear.”

At that, the businessman grimaced and nodded, and went back to quietly sipping his drink.