Monday, January 5, 2015

Moving Slow

The only thing moving fast is the drainage from my nose. My nostrils are sore and red from wiping and the runny nose form my head cold only started yesterday in the middle of the sermon. I was in a quandary as what to do. I knew the only box of tissues was behind the altar at the front of the church and I didn’t want to be a distraction, so I sniffled and snorted, managing to last until the end.
I hurried to the front of the sanctuary and grabbed a handful, tooting my nasal horn, like the angel Gabriel before an announcement. I sniffled my way through Sunday school before saying to my daughter Anna, “I don’t feel like cooking. How about we go out for lunch?”
We went to a local restaurant and ordered. The longer we sat at our table, it seemed the colder it got. I mentioned it to a waitress and she said she would see what she could do. She also said that the cold could be coming from the windows.
I put on my jacket and my daughter wrapped her legs with her coat. Just before we finished eating, I remembered that it was warmer outside than inside, so the cold had to be the internal temperature and not from the outside.
I don’t blame the waitress, I know that the corporation had done a remodel and has set guidelines. Our writers group meets there almost every other Thursday and complained about a few other things. We refuse to be sat at the one remodeled area with tall stools instead of regular chairs. I told the hostess, “The last time I sat in a high chair was when I was two years old and outgrew it. I didn’t plan on going back to a high chair now.”
The other corporate edict that made little sense was to turn the lights down low at eight p.m. It was another faux pas. We would gather to eat after our meeting and many of us are older people. We couldn’t read the menus. The manager did raise the brightness for us, that evening. I am sure that the corporate wanted to create a more intimate, club-like atmosphere, but micromanaging like that with broad, general, all-encompassing rules does not work. Each restaurant has to cater to its specific patrons or lose business.
The excursion to eat and pick up a few groceries wore me out, and I was glad to get home. Back at church for the Sunday evening services, I deposited several boxes of tissues throughout the church for easier retrieval.

1 comment:

  1. Tom, I liked this post. You have good material here. Might I suggest that rather than posting every day you do so every other day, leaving the non-posting day to edit your pieces?
    Carolyn Cornell Holland