Thursday, July 15, 2010

Oddities

One of my managers ended a conversation a coworker and I were having about the Bible and Jesus' example last week, telling us that religion cannot be discussed on the job. Well, I've been only a little less eager to discuss Christ at work, and then I got the opportunity of a lifetime.

One of the servers had been very antagonistic towards me, because she loves her particular favorite sin and wishes that I would openly approve, but has lately become more...tolerant? I think that's the word. She lately has been teling people how much she misses me and has been rejoicing to see me and work with me. Big change from telling two managers that she had been working overtime for six months to get me fired.

Her change coincided with my demotion. I had been given the responsibility of closer, which means that I have no sidework, except what is left undone by others. Being a very strict person, I set some very high standards. She had to meet them if she wanted to leave. She objected--until she was given my position. I wasn't told why I'm not closing anymore, but it freed me up and it helped her understand why I'm so strict. Now, she is, too. And--get this--she trusts me to do my sidework, unlike almost any other coworker.

Anyway, it was her table that called me over after I had taken my table's order. The man, his wife, and the two girls (I'm thinking they were his granddaughters, but people are having children so late in life these days, I can't be sure) told me that they had been discussing with my coworker about having us all dress in Hooter's outfits.

Of course, I wasn't nearly as amused as they wanted me to be. My coworker tried to stop me from jumping down their throats, saying, "It's okay, Josh, have some fun," but I wasn't having it. I did have fun, though.

I told him that I would not wear it, that I don't want to see it, and that women should not wear it, either. So he asked me what I wear when I go swimming. Well, I can't swim. And I don't go to the beach.

The younger girl told me that I'm boring. I laughed. "That's what she thinks, too," indicating my coworker, who was still standing by. "I do have fun."

Of course, they had to ask what I think is fun. "Telling people about Jesus, and playing my guitar."

The immediate reaction from the man was the usual tap-dancing that goes on when someone who loves sin encounters someone who preaches holiness. A little blasphemy, a little mockery, a bit of feigned respect, and then right back to loving sin.

I decided to ignore it and add to my list. "Oh yeah, I play baseball, too" (which I paid $350 to do this year, but haven't gotten off the bench yet, but I didn't get to explain that).

"Softball?"

"No--real baseball: it's a smaller ball and they throw it really hard."

I had neglected to realize that he was wearing a softball tournament T-shirt. So, of course, the two young girls started laughing their heads off. I tried to apologize but to no avail.

Then he tried to blame the desire to go to Hooter's on the girls, saying that it was their idea and yet somehow they ended up at Cracker Barrel. Of course, they quickly and fervently denied it, but they didn't have to.

"Sir, between you and me, we both know what red blood does in our cells. Let's not blame the ladies." We parted ways amicably. That was fun. We laughed about it for a while in the back. Maybe someday, he and his family will find the joy that comes from witnessing for Jesus.

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