I'm Waiting, Hello?

I had an exceptional client years ago. Our training relationship spanned seven or eight years. She was reliable, conscienous, thoughtful, generous, and wise. She said things that have stuck with me, one saying was: There is no excuse for bad behaviour. I liked that, and I use the phrase often, when I learn that someone is being mistreated and accepting the mistreatment. We really do, train people on how to handle, mishandle, treat, mistreat us. 

Today I had an appointment with a hairdresser. For the second time, I waited for her to mix colour in the backroom. The first time, I grew impatient, because I could hear her talking to a colleague in hushed tones. I thought about leaving, after having waited so long, but instead, I rose from the chair, stuck my head through the open doorway, and said, Excuse me for interrupting you, but I need to have my hair done, I have company visiting from Alberta. The hairdresser had her butt up against the counter, mixing bowl in one hand, stirring brush in the other, poised in the air ... her colleague was facing her, and had her back to the door, they looked cozy in the sharing stance and I startled them a bit. The hairdresser immediately came out, and was pleasant, and I thought, she won't do that again, but she did, today, just this morning. 

Last time I had my hair done, I stated, You are the quietest hairdresser I have ever met. She replied that talking to clients too much can put her behind schedule. I just thought she hated me and that's why she didn't talk much, but I think she hates clients in general, because I learned she doesn't waste her breath on talking to any of them ... but she and her colleagues, talk a lot, smile at one another a lot, and I observed, the other ladies that work in the shop, barely speak to their clients either. That's a secret code, dear reader, that speaks volumes of disdain. They want money, but don't care one bit for the people they service. 

Are you curious about how I handled the situation I found myself in this morning, while I heard her whispering to someone for ten minutes? What would you have done, dear one? How do you handle yourself when someone behaves badly at your time, energy, money expense?

I will tell you what I did ... I recalled the wise words that when accessed, speak instruction to those that are being dismissed without reason: There is no excuse for bad behaviour. I got up from that chair, grabbed my belongings, and went out the door. I suspect it surprised the hairdresser when she finally decided to exit the backroom to provide service to a waiting client, to discover she no longer had said client. She sent me a message, at the twenty minute mark from the start of our appointment, and I shared my perspective and experience of unnecessarily waiting for her while she spoke to someone in the backroom. Her response was weak and she lied, suggesting it was a brief call from a colleague, and some other nonsense, but dear reader, I can tell time and heard her voice, while I waited, and waited, and waited ... 

I have made errs as a trainer, as a coach, as a daughter, sister, friend, human being! but I always feel very badly when I have misspoken, or misstepped, because I truly do not want to injure anyone and I always want to make amends. Not so with some, with so many in fact. Blaming someone for something I have done means I believe there is an excuse for bad behaviour, and I know, there really is no good excuse to treat anyone with disregard. This hairdresser either hates herself, her life, her work, or just the clients that sit in her chair, held hostage waiting, because they need a service done and don't want to be "impolite" by asking the service provider to hurry the heck up. That is on her, and I, for one, refuse to accept or excuse, bad behaviour. 

I will tell you this; I have left conversations that were one sided, without a backward glance. I have stated, I am bored, when in a group of people, one person makes a show of themselves, never displaying any interest in others and simply, wanting to be in a perpetual spot light ... I have walked out of restaurants after being seated when the wait staff choose not to say hello, or acknowledge me and whomever I am with. I am not a prima donna, or someone that demands attention, in fact I prefer not having too much attention, but, I do so enjoy courtesy, customer service, kindness, and accountability when someone needs to say, That was on me, I am so sorry. I like the expression, Don't ruin a perfectly good apology with an excuse, and I will keep my standards high, not making excuses for myself or anyone else, because we must have high standards, dear reader, otherwise we become slaves to the ugly inelegance that mars the human race.

Stuck Squeaky Toys

Lips, tongue, cheeks, throat, and every part that follows downward from there, burn, when drano is ingested. A friend of mine reminded me just last night, what can happen to a person when poison is taken into the body ... it burns, doing damage that can result in death. 

Tasting social media has felt like a burn to me of the more insidious variety, compared to the immediate reaction one would surely have if they dropped drano on their tongue. At least there are warning labels on drain chemicals that clear clogs ... social media causes clogging of the thoughts, chokes up discernment, and prevents the effected from freely observing without having a visceral reaction. 

There is a ping-pong match being played, and most of us are the viewing audience members, that occasionally get up to retrieve a wayward ball, only to place it back in the court of the one we think is worthy of a win. The silly truth is, you and I are the light as air balls being volleyed, tapped to table top corners, then smashed hard from side to side, to prove a point: and the point is, it is the fool that plays the pawn, or table tennis ball in this scenario, in a game with no competitors. When both sides pretend to play to win, but in fact are on the same team, and all is even-steven for them during game play, then the witless, clueless ones in the audience end up being the big duped losers. 

A lot has been said and written about psychological operations, short formed to psyop, and that is precisely what I am going on about here, in this brief piece of writing. I will tell you what the game play is truly about, dear reader. There are two sides, and you are on one or the other. There is the Truth Team that belongs to Jesus Christ, and he is known as The Way, The Truth, and The Life. There is another team, and only one other, and they are Dem Dare Liars, and they are members under the headship of the dark one, known as the father of lies, a marauding murderer under the title of Satan. We pledge our allegiance to one team or another, and sometimes a person like you and me, might get caught being somewhat duplicitous and confused, forgetting that this game is being played for keeps, meaning souls are the booty being bet on, and many a soul will be lost for want of having chosen to stay on the righteous side of the court. 

Satan hates God's children, and blood lust drives him to get his team aboard in the killing. All the posing and posturing of the players belies their inner workings. They are the foot soldiers of the damned one, and the goal is to take as many down to the pit with them as is possible in their lifetime, which is short, very short: each human has a limited time to live their life purpose, and this is why there is a frenzy and feverishness to their actions ... they know their time is short and that our time is too; signs are all around us that we are marching en masse to the completion of our time as humans walking the earth. Soon enough planet earth will be rolled up like a scroll, and well, some are just gonna fall right off it when that happens, into a very deep, dark, godless pit of terror. 

I don't want to be a pawn, or a ping-pong ball being batted back and forth across a low net. I don't want to be battered and bruised with the pushing and shoving of the enemy that wants me to feel as though they are the ones calling the shots and they have all the power to make my life good, miserable, or otherwise. They lie, and I don't buy or believe what they spew. God must be magnified, and when he is magnified in our thoughts, our prayers, and then our actions, the little pea-ons that have the microphones in their faces day and night, sound like squeaky toys stuck on a broken note. 

No one likes a squeaky toy for very long. Give one to a dog and he will manage to chew the thing up until it no longer makes a sound. I think the stuck and broken note of the toys is raucous to the ears that listen for the sound of their Father's voice, and want only to please him. We are living to see this scripture come to life:

He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy still (Revelation 22:11)

Our work, if we call ourselves Christians, is to believe in Jesus and live our mission as ambassadors of reconciliation between the lost and God. I do not put my trust in mealy mouthed double speak men and women of this world: that, dear reader, is foolhardy, anti Biblical, and a dangerous endeavour that may result in burning. 

NOTE: I realize I used many a metaphor in this writing: maybe you can come up with your own to describe what you see. Don't leave me to do all the work over here! And please, no political jostling, I don't give a damn about the demon infested ones that feign caring, they are the squeaky toys that hurt my ears.