Friday, November 25, 2011

Conelia was the usher at church last Sunday. After she had seated us, I realized that she hadn't given us a bulletin (a photocopied sheet, folded double). I beckoned her over and told her what I wanted, then teased her by saying that she should be fired. She said, "Oh, we don't give them to people, because they just throw them away." She gave me one, although I'm sure that she knew that we weren’t likely to keep ours, either.
Partway through the service I went to the back to get a photo of her ushering. (Sorry – it won't come off of my phone.) She whispered to me that she hates the job, because the two women who happened to be sitting in front of Paul and me always come in late but refuse to go to the front. I pointed out that Paul and I come late (meaning that we come when the service is actually starting, about 20 min. past its scheduled starting time) and that we don't like to sit in the front, either. She sniffed and said, "Well you people are different." Then she added that the women ignore her when she asks them to scoot over to make room for others. Most of the time I try not to take advantage of my status (accorded to me simply because of my skin color), but I don't like it when people mess with Conelia and decided to make an exception. So I told her that she should go ask them again. She did, and they ignored her. So I went up to them and whispered, "Being an usher is really difficult. Why do you want to make it harder for them by not moving over when they ask you?" They moved over, but surprisingly little. I told Conelia that next week she should seat Paul and me next to them. If they don't move, we will sit on their laps.

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