Since when is it okay?

Only one other seat was occupied in the Queens lounge, and was filled by a gently snoring middle-aged man. He was slouched so low that his backside almost hung off the seat. He had a dark windbreaker spread out over his face, and I couldn't see much more than his dark arms and Royals blue work shirt: a Queens employee of some sort, and by the look of it, an exhausted Queens employee.

Another man, this one tall, husky, and white approached. He wore a white, collared shirt and had close-cropped hair and a cold stare; he looked like a middle class, middle-level retail manager... but he also looked like he could - and maybe would - harm you if angered. He walked purposefully towards my lounge neighbor. He stood above the man's chair, staring threateningly at the even rise and fall of his slumbering worker's chest. I couldn't believe the man didn't awake under the weight of that look alone. Seconds passed. And then, the boss kicked him. He lifted his leather-clad foot and, in one movement, roughly booted the other man's legs.

He was careful not to get too close to the chair - his long leg was fully extended to reach its target. He then stood there, four feet from the sleeping man, and waited. The worker stirred, slowly. The jacket moved, a face appeared. Two dark, bleary eyes adjusted to the light and settled on their supervisor. He rose and silently followed his boss from the room.

It was an ordinary instance, I suppose, but I was bothered. Forget about the literal, visual illustration: the boss in a white shirt, the worker in blue. Look past the troublesome racial dynamic: the black blue-collar worker, clearly inferior to the white white-collar worker. Since when (as an adult) is it acceptable to kick another human being?