The question of this church chick day is, “How do you get someone who asks for assistance to leave when they are not being especially obnoxious but they are clearly settling in for a long winter's nap?”
Well, this is your guide to extended stay visitors.
When they come in and follow the front desk person as she walks to your office to tell you someone is here for assistance, don’t panic. Bolt right out of your chair and jump across your desk so that you are blocking the threshold of your office so they will not enter, which would mean trapping in your own office which is not a good thing.
When they stand belligerently in the hallway, demanding to see the Senior Pastor and you know that he is only an open- door office away, and you know that this person, regardless of how many ways he tries to say he needs spiritual assistance, is really here for some money- well you put your Protect the Pastor hat on and you say, “So, tell me what's going on?”
That might get you nuthin’ or it might get you the beginning of an hour long explanation that includes vital statements such as, “I’m not on crack or heroin, and I’m not a drug dealer, and I don't go downtown.Society is out to get people, just like Police.” These enthusiastically offered statements might suggest that ,perhaps, he is not being truthful but don’t stop listening because as he continues rambling, it will give you a chance to notice that his teeth are slowly being eaten away (a characteristic side effect of meth consumption) and you may notice a white powder stuck on his nostril and lips which may or may not be confectioner's sugar.
If you stand your ground and keep listening, you might hear about how comfortable some laundromats are for sleepovers and how the police are against us all and the Caucasian population is not family friendly.
Use this last statement as an opening to say, “Let’s sit down.” Then stretch out your arms in a welcoming fashion and side step down the hall as if to lead and point to a better conversation spot while all the while you are really blocking the open -door office where your boss is working hard with another staff member to prepare some important info for an upcoming meeting.
If you can successfully make it past the door, and around the corner you can land your visitor in the lobby where he will continue to talk about things such as his problem with anger management that he is going to get under control without anybody's damn help, and how his parents died and he didn’t get enough of the inheritance and he works in construction but not now but he might someday even though he hasn’t actually- he thought about it and he won’t pay his parking tickets in another state so he can’t have a driver’s license until then but who cares because he drives a bike that is an expensive one but you can’t tell because it looks cheap but it is a ruse so it won’t be stolen it is really a very important bike or will be when he gets a new tire on it and the gears fixed and no he didn’t even get hurt when he was hit from behind by a Caucasian driver in yet another state once and then you might get a really detailed description with words and body language about his being rocketed into space and how he tumbled and which foot hit the hood right not left or maybe it was left but it felt right and he can get a truck and get other people to drive it.
As you listen intently, be on the lookout for the visitor to take a breath. It may not happen often, but it is a vital opportunity for you to say, “What do you need from us today?” If you miss your first opp, be prepared to listen for another 15 minutes about Ann landers and maturity and she can help you manage yourself when you are mad which police and other people, especially people in soup kitchens can not.
When you get lucky enough to interject the question, be prepared to get a multiple choice answer.
Food, money, cash, not grocery cards because when you ride with food bags on your handlebars, the police drive by and say, “Let’s rouse him” so you have to get food that you can eat right then but Kroger is the best.
By this point, you may go ahead and release the hold on your number one rule which is “see and copy identification, picture ID in particular” and go to your number one substitute rule in case of emergency which is “Give them a giftcard and help them move on” and then the back up back up number one substitute rule, “Give them the contents of the gum bowl if you have to.”
Be prepared to accept without comment when they pull out a worn out document that may or may not contain a SS number with no name. Don’t comment on the arrest papers that the visitor may give you to use as identification, even though he just told you he’s never been arrested. Accept it and go is a wise management skill in those moments.
Expect to have to “sell” this gift card since it may not be Kroger or cash. Do not think that by accepting the offer of a card it means that your visitor is indeed ready to leave. When you go to your office to get the card, you may want to take the opportunity to down a handful of tums. They work pretty quickly. Do NOT, however be overzealous in this remedy for tummy nerves. A large handful can leave you with a tums powder mustache which may resemble the visitor’s crack shadow. Probably not a good idea to bond on that level.
When you bring out the card, you may find the visitor on the church phone. Feel free to inform him that the phone is for business calls only, and don’t fret over being calmly firm, because there is every chance the visitor will respond with “I had a cell phone but the minutes are all gone and if I had 10 dollars I could buy more minutes,” At which time his dead cell phone may very well ring right there on the spot.
If this occurs, take a step back and bite your tongue. When his minute-less conversation runs into several minutes, resist the urge to point out that what he is talking on is indeed a miracle as it is a dead phone arisen and with minutes to boot.
When he hangs up, give him the gift card and make it clear that is all you have to offer him, but don’t think he is finished with you yet because after all that conversation, he just might want to rest a while.
He might want to rest a while in the chair where he has been parked all this time because there is now a comfy pressed- in spot that fits his physique just so.
This might be a good time to affirm his statement that he is going to stay and add to that a drop of reality with , “ Sure. It’s fine for you to stay for a few minutes. There are benches outside that are also very comfortable and as a matter of fact, it is such a lovely day that you may enjoy the fresh air after a few minutes out there.”
Consider taking the time to return to your office for more tums at this time. It is possible that you may have noticed this individual stands out a bit from other visitors requesting assistance. You might even recall the soft and intelligent voice of the serial killer in The Silence of The Lambs, but don’t give in to this assumption wholeheartedly. Many people share similar language and intonation. On the other hand, you might want to cut back a bit from watching Criminal Minds and Law and Order for a while.
After a few moments, return to the visitor and when he is off the phone that has no minutes yet again, you can try letting him know that it is nearly time to close. Ignore the fact that you are standing in a church that never really closes. When he says, “Oh, yeah. What time is it anyway? 4:00?” you can safely look at your watch and say, “No it is 3:30, but we close at 4 today.”
Ignore the reaction of the front desk receptionist, and ignore her silent mouthing to you, “We close at 4 today? Really? I get off an hour early?” Just blink those words away.
When he says, “sooo I can sit here another half hour?”
You can respond with, “You can sit her for 10 minutes because we have to close up the front desk.” Discard the confusion of the receptionist as she looks around the front desk for things that need closing up.
Go to the phone and call the maintenance super and say to him on the phone, “Hey, it’s time to close up now, you can come on up and lock the doors.”
When he responds with, “Wut? Why are we locking the doors? You know where the key is, don’t you? Closing early? We’ve got Bible studies tonight.” Just repeat in a calm and steady voice, what you have just said and then add, “You can COME UP HERE right now and lock up” and if you hit just the right notes, he may sigh with irritation and say to his partner, “women” and then to you, “okay, we’re coming.”
This is probably when the visitor will discover he needs to use the restroom.
Fight the urge to direct him to the shrubs outside. After all, you are the gardener at church and the plants won’t appreciate that a bit. Acknowledge with active listening, much as you did with your own children perhaps, when they were younger, “You need to use the restroom.” Try to keep away from a tone of disbelief.
When he stands up and, with confidence, heads to the restroom, you might say to yourself, “Self, he knows where it is. He seems very comfortable here, yet you have no record of any prior visits, perhaps he’s been here when you were not.”
This is another good time to finish off the tums bottle. When he leaves the restroom, take note that he may not backtrack, but he may feel a sense of adventure and might decide to explore the other half of the building. If this happens, the maintenance men may be able to herd him toward the front door.
Offer to help him get his bike outside and alert him to the fact that the Thanksgiving food collection box is not for shopping, and didn’t he say something about bags of food on the handlebars were a red flag for police to rouse him? Then, sidestep quickly so as not to be hit with his quiet rage.
When he has actually exited the building, you might discover that your intuition about this visitor was on target. You might discover he has been to the church on other occasions, and you might also discover that contrary to his strong insistence that he has not ever been arrested, he has a record for violent crimes in another state. Multiple arrests. This information can help you to trust your gut next time and not feel guilty about judging his needs.
Remind yourself that you try very hard to help people who come into the church and that the world is full of people who need food help and people who just need help leaving the premises.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Halloween radio
I'm not into frightful movies or even frightful moments, so Halloween isn't really a favorite holiday of mine. In fact, when the girls were younger, two of them were allergic to food coloring- red #20 and FD&C 5and 6 in particular, so Halloween and Valentines day and Easter were not the best holidays for us.
This is Halloween week and by a lovely surprise, mystery radio is playing ghost stories and scary tales all day. I am loving it. This morning when I came in, "Macabre" was playing. The 40's sounds of murder and mayhem are most entertaining.
Off and on through the day yesterday, as people stopped by to chat or vent, their conversation was occasionally interrupted by a Faye Ray scream or a Boris Karloff deep and deathly calming threat.
Watching reactions to this are very entertaining for me, so I can only hope for a week of funny faces and deliciously old timey tales of terror.
This is Halloween week and by a lovely surprise, mystery radio is playing ghost stories and scary tales all day. I am loving it. This morning when I came in, "Macabre" was playing. The 40's sounds of murder and mayhem are most entertaining.
Off and on through the day yesterday, as people stopped by to chat or vent, their conversation was occasionally interrupted by a Faye Ray scream or a Boris Karloff deep and deathly calming threat.
Watching reactions to this are very entertaining for me, so I can only hope for a week of funny faces and deliciously old timey tales of terror.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Adventures in transcription
One of the things I enjoy most about this job is the variety. For the last few days, I've been transcribing a journal that one of the mission trips composed on a trip to a far away place last summer.
I am really enjoying the stories, and today, I realized that I am also rewriting bits of them.
The journal was passed around so that each team member was able to handwrite an entry. I've been reading and interpreting fonts that aren't really of this universe yet. My own handwriting is a challenge;one that has come in handy on occasion. My girls haven't been able to decipher holiday shopping lists for years. whew.
I've been wrapped up in the stories as I've been typing them from scribble to keyboard type, and today, I realized that I may be getting some of the story not quite right. The front desk receptionist and I chipped away at a few of the unintelligible words today, she's an expert- being a sudoko warrior.
There was one word that neither of us could quite get, though, so I asked for some help from one of my staff pals.
I gave the journal to another passer-by and asked for a reading of this paragraph and they came up with the same thing. Good guesses for all words and only slight hesitation on my challenge word.
My friend asked me to read what I thought it was and before I had gotten half way through the piece, she had to take a break- catch her breath- put her teeth back into her mouth. Her laughter shook my plants right out of their pots.
Her reading went something like this:We went to a celebration and luncheon this afternoon Our bus pulled into a crowd with costumed dancers, a tent area with chairs, tables and a large crowd gathered to celebrate the young children...
Mine went this way: We attended a celebration and luncheon. This afternoon, our bus pulled into a crowd with Costumgo Dancans, a tent area with chairs, tables and a lance crown gangled to celebrate the young children.
I was wondering a few things as I typed. Who the heck was Costumgo Dancans, and was it a cultural thing to celebrate children with lance crowns and whatever those were, they didn't sound too kid friendly.
My friend rolled her way downstairs to her office and shot off an email to me asking to speak with Costumgo. Funny, very funny. Then, her youngest son called me and asked to speak with Mr. Dancans. I told him to hold while i transferred him to his voicemail and then I hung up.
I've pretty much decided to attach a copy of the original journal with my transcription. That way, the readers can choose whichever version they prefer.
I am really enjoying the stories, and today, I realized that I am also rewriting bits of them.
The journal was passed around so that each team member was able to handwrite an entry. I've been reading and interpreting fonts that aren't really of this universe yet. My own handwriting is a challenge;one that has come in handy on occasion. My girls haven't been able to decipher holiday shopping lists for years. whew.
I've been wrapped up in the stories as I've been typing them from scribble to keyboard type, and today, I realized that I may be getting some of the story not quite right. The front desk receptionist and I chipped away at a few of the unintelligible words today, she's an expert- being a sudoko warrior.
There was one word that neither of us could quite get, though, so I asked for some help from one of my staff pals.
The paragraph involved celebration and a crowd and another "c" word. I was able to pull apart all the other words in the grouping except for this one. Dag nabbit. My friend breezed through the paragraph, hesitating only slightly when she got to the mystery "c" word. Her reading was different than my transcription, though. Hmmm.
I gave the journal to another passer-by and asked for a reading of this paragraph and they came up with the same thing. Good guesses for all words and only slight hesitation on my challenge word.
My friend asked me to read what I thought it was and before I had gotten half way through the piece, she had to take a break- catch her breath- put her teeth back into her mouth. Her laughter shook my plants right out of their pots.
Her reading went something like this:We went to a celebration and luncheon this afternoon Our bus pulled into a crowd with costumed dancers, a tent area with chairs, tables and a large crowd gathered to celebrate the young children...
Mine went this way: We attended a celebration and luncheon. This afternoon, our bus pulled into a crowd with Costumgo Dancans, a tent area with chairs, tables and a lance crown gangled to celebrate the young children.
I was wondering a few things as I typed. Who the heck was Costumgo Dancans, and was it a cultural thing to celebrate children with lance crowns and whatever those were, they didn't sound too kid friendly.
My friend rolled her way downstairs to her office and shot off an email to me asking to speak with Costumgo. Funny, very funny. Then, her youngest son called me and asked to speak with Mr. Dancans. I told him to hold while i transferred him to his voicemail and then I hung up.
I've pretty much decided to attach a copy of the original journal with my transcription. That way, the readers can choose whichever version they prefer.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Returning to the scene of the crime
Last night I returned to the scene of the crime. My wilderness daughter and I walked over to the shopping center to meet friends, and lo! Suddenly, there we were at the very scene. The elephant ear bed. All signs of life had been removed. The dirt lay bare. No yellow crime scene tape, either.
We stood together, me glad in my heart that my story was now proven true that the landscapers were due to come when I thought they were, and sad in my heart that the cousins of the plants I had saved were now. gone.
I looked around and all of the pots had been brutally emptied, their summer arrangements replaced with shrubs. How bland, I thought.
" Okay, mom. It's time to let it go" my daughter said. She gently pulled me away.
There wasn't a red rose in sight to leave on the grave.
We stood together, me glad in my heart that my story was now proven true that the landscapers were due to come when I thought they were, and sad in my heart that the cousins of the plants I had saved were now. gone.
I looked around and all of the pots had been brutally emptied, their summer arrangements replaced with shrubs. How bland, I thought.
" Okay, mom. It's time to let it go" my daughter said. She gently pulled me away.
There wasn't a red rose in sight to leave on the grave.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
It was good while it lasted
I am a spring/summer church chick. Cold weather sends me into hibernation.
I search out things to look forward to that can string me through the cold months.
Planting bulbs, getting the free shopping center plants, making pomegranate ahm, making soup for church. Those things usually take me through February.
Last week, I tried to plant bulbs at church but it was too warm for the bulbs to hit the dirt, so I still have that to look forward to, and I have my own to add to and two friends’ yards as well.
The free plant day came up yesterday. I've been looking forward to it for weeks, watching and mentally picking out what I need for this yard or that. You’d think the planters held chocolate instead of dirt.
Yesterday, right in the middle of a quarterly staff planning day, I got the call. THE CALL.
“The truck is here!! They are here!! Come right over” said my contact. The timing was very unusual because usually the landscapers come at the crack of dawn, not during lunch rush hour. I dreaded digging amongst folks enjoying pizza, reubans or nachos, but one must do what one must do sometimes. This was one of those times.
I excused myself from the meeting, determined to dig fast and get back quick as a wink.
I met the friend/contact at her store, dug up what she wanted and what her boss wanted. I rode around and pried up the plants I needed for church and yards, then took a last drive around the shopping center to see if I forgot anything. I saw the elephant ears waving at me from afar and I pulled up and got out with my trowel. Note: Never fall for an elephant’s ears' wave.
I loosened the dirt around one of the waving plants and heard a voice behind me. “Are you with the landscapers?”
“No” I stood up and brushed the dirt off of the plant. A woman in an SUV had pulled up beside the curb. She held her phone to her ear.
“Who are you with?”
I smiled and said, “just me”
“I’m calling security.” The next few minutes are an exaggerated blur.
Another car pulled up, an officered police person came walking over, and a plain-clothed security officer also walked over.
I told my story to the woman, explaining that I had permission, and how I had permission and that if it was no longer okay for me to save these plants that were about to be dug up and abandoned in the landfill, then I’d release them back into her ill care.
She understood what had happened and let me know that the policy was now changed (now being the target word here,) and no one could have them but the landscapers. The reapers. The grim reapers.
I explained that the landscapers were glad to let me dig because it meant less work for them, but she held tight. We both waved off the FBI and the security guards. I convinced the police to go back to chasing bank robbers, and I begged the state trooper to look for speeders on the interstate. Finally, they left.
I was resigned to the fact that the glory days of collecting discarded plants was over. I wept inside, thinking of the orphans that were about to hit the landfill. I grieved. My heart was sad. The first woman felt my heartache and put her arm around me. “ If they are really really strong, they’ll make it no matter where they end up.”
I shook my head and blew my nose.
The second car took my attention. It contained a hormone depleted, slightly thinning but dyed blonde haired woman who had surely mistaken a bottle of rancid perfume for lotion. It was obvious she had virtually dipped herself into it several times. Her body gave off waves of the stuff much like a car hood does heat.She looked wavy.
She was dressed in a shirt and skirt combo that I can only guess was a‘wanna-be Chico outfit mixed with a slather of American Eagle for the aged’. Her fashion statement was held together with a big black hippo tongue, or maybe it was a belt. The buckle was acrylic. gold-dipped plastic.
Her bright purple nails were a hair longer than her fangs, which had obviously been overwhitened, or maybe she swished with Clorox when she brushed. She must have had on spandex hose with tummy tighteners because her legs looked human, but her navel was popping up through her cleavage. She wore heels. I think. I had never seen shoes quite like that before. They were thick 4”platforms with skinny 3”heels coming out the bottom. They matched her nail color. Her neck and limbs dripped gold. Please don’t make me describe her face. I need to sleep at night.
She stepped out of the vehicle and towered over me. She pulled a megaphone out of the car and began yelling sharp pointed words at me. Wait. That wasn’t a megaphone. I think it was her lipgloss- covered botoxed lips.
She made it clear to me that I was a heinous criminal, foraging and stealing plants from her.
I explained that I had been invited to do so by the landscapers and the store. She wondered why I came at this particular time and day and I told her about the letter letting store owners know when the plant change out was coming. I told her of the call I got telling me they were here now. The woman grew zits as she threw angry words at me. In the midst of my fright and horror, I was somehow comforted to see that she was in some way, human after all.
The woman spoke so hard that the first woman began crying, sobbing, “It wasn’t her, it was me. Me! I tell you. Please, for Gosh sakes, let her go!” The crying woman then looked at me and said, “Run, run as far away as you can and don’t stop running until you can’t run anymore!” She backed up and inserted herself into her car.
The screaming life-crisis continued telling me how stupid I had been to believe the store owner regarding plants outside the store. I broke. I finally cracked in half and broke.
“But I’m a church secretary, for God’s sake! Why would I be digging up plants in the middle of the day for anyone to see if I was stealing them?” Oh, where is a prozac when you really need one? I could have tossed it down her megaphone mouth and we both would have felt a ton better. But, nay. Such luck was nowhere to be found.
She suddenly stopped making noise. The glare was there, but I had side stepped just out of the glare -ray field, so I wasn’t too scorched.
“ Do you want me to return them? I’ll gladly put them back, but they will be taken away anyway.”
“ What have you taken?” she seethed.
“ Well, ferns and these elephant ears.” The question was moot as the fern was sticking out of my side window and the elephant ears were still waving at me from the car. They looked perky and ready for a roadtrip.
“No. Enjoy them.” She said. “And don’t come back”
I opened my car door and whispered to the elephant ears that were hogging the driver’s seat, “scoot over”. I got in and left. The stowaway caladiums in the trunk were cheering as I pulled out. “We’re saved!!! Woo Hoo!!”
It’s funny in a not funny way how in the span of a few seconds one can be convinced they are indeed criminal, evil, vile and bad bad bad. I held that sense all the rest of the day.
I returned to work, shook the dirt out of my hair and threw a sweater on over my now dirty shirt. I rejoined the staff planning, but trembled all afternoon. I kept looking for a SWAT van to pull up. It never happened.
I was in need of comfort, clarity, and I needed reminding that I had followed advice and information as I knew it. I needed to know I was not as bad as I felt and that I could indeed continue to be allowed to live on the planet. Surely, no church would want the likes of an accused plant thief working in their building and for that matter what church would want one of those as a member? My imagination drank in the adrenaline from the unfortunate experience and kept on with the thoughts that I would be asked to move out of my townhouse because my landlord would learn of my mishap, and my children would sharply turn away from me, I would lose all of my framily as well.Why, I was sure my kitties would hiss when I returned home later. I was a mess.
After the meeting, my boss asked how it went and I whispered, "Mother Mary, forgive me, for I have sinned. It's been a while since my last confession."
He looked around the room, then at me, and said, "Wrong religion, what happened?"
I said,"I got in trouble." The word "trouble" drew attention and a few of my co workers came over to hear the story. I had not gotten very far into the tale when the reactions began. Rejection wasn’t in the mix, though. No. It started with sniffs, then lowered heads and finally outright laughter. “When you call me tonight, give me a few minutes to laugh, and then I’ll come bail you out.”
What is wrong with these people, I thought. Where was the shun? ...the rejection, the disappointment in my obvious flaw of character? Were these things hidden in their laughter? It didn’t seem so, and it left me confused.
I called my oldest daughter and she had no reaction at all. She suggested without hesitation that perhaps the old biddy had the misfortune of sitting on something sharp, or maybe she had woken up on the wrong side of the plastic surgery. or maybe she needed to be pinched to bring her back to reality.
Reality. That is what was missing in my thinking.
I had an intense need to rid my car of the “hot” rooted victims. I gave away some of the goodies before I left the building to an assistance person who would have rather had food, but seemed amazingly satisfied with a fern.
I drove by a friend’s house- someone who regularly invites me to dig plants from her yard, and I did a drive-by drop off.
The only plants left were ferns for a friend, and caladiums for church.
I decided that what I needed was a visit with our framily friends who have a luscious 3 ½ year old and a 4 month old. Some kid- time might help me find my way back to steady.
I drove my -now full of dirt car- over and skatted up the front walk to the front door. There was a sign on the door that read, “We love convicts. Herb thieves welcome here”
Funny. Very funny. How did they know?
I entered and was met by my 3 year old friend who hugged me tight. Just what I needed and wanted. Just what I needed to remind me I was good of heart, okay. He hugged hugged hugged me and said in my ear- “ Menandy, I luv u even if you are a fugitive”
He took me by the hand and led me to the kitchen where my oldest daughter was trying to hold her mouth shut with both hands, unsuccessfully. Across the room my little friend's mom was shaking with laughter, unable to look at me for fear she wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and his dad was frantically stirring a pot of empty spaghetti water. Somehow, the laughter among people I have come to trust helped me think more realistically.
After that, I went to a friend’s house and planted the ferns in her yard. It was dark by then, so the sense of sneaky crime had crept back into my head. There I was, hunched over the dirt digging a hole like a murderer digs a hole for his victim. I stopped and said into the dark,"Oh Lordy." I quickly finished putting the illegally adopted ferns to bed, then I went inside and spilled out my story.
No one there seemed to see me as a rotten crook, either. My teen friend was intently typing on her laptop, appearing to be working hard on homework, though i suspect she may have stumbled into her facebook account. She never looked up, but said, " You didn't do anything wrong." It felt like a line on a chinese fortune cookie. I wanted to believe it.
I stayed a while, grabbed some much needed hugs and headed home.
My cats were glad to see me. My landlord had not called or left me a notice. I began to think that maybe, like Alexander, I had just had a few minutes of a no good very bad day. So I went to bed.
It was good while it lasted, and the plants that came home with me last Spring and yesterday, will have chances to live and thrive. I think that’s as good as it gets.
As for the irate woman? I think she just needs a good bite of chocolate, and maybe if she’d unsproing herself from spandex and pointy high heels, she may see things a little differently.
I’m not planning on finding out, though.
I search out things to look forward to that can string me through the cold months.
Planting bulbs, getting the free shopping center plants, making pomegranate ahm, making soup for church. Those things usually take me through February.
Last week, I tried to plant bulbs at church but it was too warm for the bulbs to hit the dirt, so I still have that to look forward to, and I have my own to add to and two friends’ yards as well.
The free plant day came up yesterday. I've been looking forward to it for weeks, watching and mentally picking out what I need for this yard or that. You’d think the planters held chocolate instead of dirt.
Yesterday, right in the middle of a quarterly staff planning day, I got the call. THE CALL.
“The truck is here!! They are here!! Come right over” said my contact. The timing was very unusual because usually the landscapers come at the crack of dawn, not during lunch rush hour. I dreaded digging amongst folks enjoying pizza, reubans or nachos, but one must do what one must do sometimes. This was one of those times.
I excused myself from the meeting, determined to dig fast and get back quick as a wink.
I met the friend/contact at her store, dug up what she wanted and what her boss wanted. I rode around and pried up the plants I needed for church and yards, then took a last drive around the shopping center to see if I forgot anything. I saw the elephant ears waving at me from afar and I pulled up and got out with my trowel. Note: Never fall for an elephant’s ears' wave.
I loosened the dirt around one of the waving plants and heard a voice behind me. “Are you with the landscapers?”
“No” I stood up and brushed the dirt off of the plant. A woman in an SUV had pulled up beside the curb. She held her phone to her ear.
“Who are you with?”
I smiled and said, “just me”
“I’m calling security.” The next few minutes are an exaggerated blur.
Another car pulled up, an officered police person came walking over, and a plain-clothed security officer also walked over.
I told my story to the woman, explaining that I had permission, and how I had permission and that if it was no longer okay for me to save these plants that were about to be dug up and abandoned in the landfill, then I’d release them back into her ill care.
She understood what had happened and let me know that the policy was now changed (now being the target word here,) and no one could have them but the landscapers. The reapers. The grim reapers.
I explained that the landscapers were glad to let me dig because it meant less work for them, but she held tight. We both waved off the FBI and the security guards. I convinced the police to go back to chasing bank robbers, and I begged the state trooper to look for speeders on the interstate. Finally, they left.
I was resigned to the fact that the glory days of collecting discarded plants was over. I wept inside, thinking of the orphans that were about to hit the landfill. I grieved. My heart was sad. The first woman felt my heartache and put her arm around me. “ If they are really really strong, they’ll make it no matter where they end up.”
I shook my head and blew my nose.
The second car took my attention. It contained a hormone depleted, slightly thinning but dyed blonde haired woman who had surely mistaken a bottle of rancid perfume for lotion. It was obvious she had virtually dipped herself into it several times. Her body gave off waves of the stuff much like a car hood does heat.She looked wavy.
She was dressed in a shirt and skirt combo that I can only guess was a‘wanna-be Chico outfit mixed with a slather of American Eagle for the aged’. Her fashion statement was held together with a big black hippo tongue, or maybe it was a belt. The buckle was acrylic. gold-dipped plastic.
Her bright purple nails were a hair longer than her fangs, which had obviously been overwhitened, or maybe she swished with Clorox when she brushed. She must have had on spandex hose with tummy tighteners because her legs looked human, but her navel was popping up through her cleavage. She wore heels. I think. I had never seen shoes quite like that before. They were thick 4”platforms with skinny 3”heels coming out the bottom. They matched her nail color. Her neck and limbs dripped gold. Please don’t make me describe her face. I need to sleep at night.
She stepped out of the vehicle and towered over me. She pulled a megaphone out of the car and began yelling sharp pointed words at me. Wait. That wasn’t a megaphone. I think it was her lipgloss- covered botoxed lips.
She made it clear to me that I was a heinous criminal, foraging and stealing plants from her.
I explained that I had been invited to do so by the landscapers and the store. She wondered why I came at this particular time and day and I told her about the letter letting store owners know when the plant change out was coming. I told her of the call I got telling me they were here now. The woman grew zits as she threw angry words at me. In the midst of my fright and horror, I was somehow comforted to see that she was in some way, human after all.
The woman spoke so hard that the first woman began crying, sobbing, “It wasn’t her, it was me. Me! I tell you. Please, for Gosh sakes, let her go!” The crying woman then looked at me and said, “Run, run as far away as you can and don’t stop running until you can’t run anymore!” She backed up and inserted herself into her car.
The screaming life-crisis continued telling me how stupid I had been to believe the store owner regarding plants outside the store. I broke. I finally cracked in half and broke.
“But I’m a church secretary, for God’s sake! Why would I be digging up plants in the middle of the day for anyone to see if I was stealing them?” Oh, where is a prozac when you really need one? I could have tossed it down her megaphone mouth and we both would have felt a ton better. But, nay. Such luck was nowhere to be found.
She suddenly stopped making noise. The glare was there, but I had side stepped just out of the glare -ray field, so I wasn’t too scorched.
“ Do you want me to return them? I’ll gladly put them back, but they will be taken away anyway.”
“ What have you taken?” she seethed.
“ Well, ferns and these elephant ears.” The question was moot as the fern was sticking out of my side window and the elephant ears were still waving at me from the car. They looked perky and ready for a roadtrip.
“No. Enjoy them.” She said. “And don’t come back”
I opened my car door and whispered to the elephant ears that were hogging the driver’s seat, “scoot over”. I got in and left. The stowaway caladiums in the trunk were cheering as I pulled out. “We’re saved!!! Woo Hoo!!”
It’s funny in a not funny way how in the span of a few seconds one can be convinced they are indeed criminal, evil, vile and bad bad bad. I held that sense all the rest of the day.
I returned to work, shook the dirt out of my hair and threw a sweater on over my now dirty shirt. I rejoined the staff planning, but trembled all afternoon. I kept looking for a SWAT van to pull up. It never happened.
I was in need of comfort, clarity, and I needed reminding that I had followed advice and information as I knew it. I needed to know I was not as bad as I felt and that I could indeed continue to be allowed to live on the planet. Surely, no church would want the likes of an accused plant thief working in their building and for that matter what church would want one of those as a member? My imagination drank in the adrenaline from the unfortunate experience and kept on with the thoughts that I would be asked to move out of my townhouse because my landlord would learn of my mishap, and my children would sharply turn away from me, I would lose all of my framily as well.Why, I was sure my kitties would hiss when I returned home later. I was a mess.
After the meeting, my boss asked how it went and I whispered, "Mother Mary, forgive me, for I have sinned. It's been a while since my last confession."
He looked around the room, then at me, and said, "Wrong religion, what happened?"
I said,"I got in trouble." The word "trouble" drew attention and a few of my co workers came over to hear the story. I had not gotten very far into the tale when the reactions began. Rejection wasn’t in the mix, though. No. It started with sniffs, then lowered heads and finally outright laughter. “When you call me tonight, give me a few minutes to laugh, and then I’ll come bail you out.”
What is wrong with these people, I thought. Where was the shun? ...the rejection, the disappointment in my obvious flaw of character? Were these things hidden in their laughter? It didn’t seem so, and it left me confused.
I called my oldest daughter and she had no reaction at all. She suggested without hesitation that perhaps the old biddy had the misfortune of sitting on something sharp, or maybe she had woken up on the wrong side of the plastic surgery. or maybe she needed to be pinched to bring her back to reality.
Reality. That is what was missing in my thinking.
I had an intense need to rid my car of the “hot” rooted victims. I gave away some of the goodies before I left the building to an assistance person who would have rather had food, but seemed amazingly satisfied with a fern.
I drove by a friend’s house- someone who regularly invites me to dig plants from her yard, and I did a drive-by drop off.
The only plants left were ferns for a friend, and caladiums for church.
I decided that what I needed was a visit with our framily friends who have a luscious 3 ½ year old and a 4 month old. Some kid- time might help me find my way back to steady.
I drove my -now full of dirt car- over and skatted up the front walk to the front door. There was a sign on the door that read, “We love convicts. Herb thieves welcome here”
Funny. Very funny. How did they know?
I entered and was met by my 3 year old friend who hugged me tight. Just what I needed and wanted. Just what I needed to remind me I was good of heart, okay. He hugged hugged hugged me and said in my ear- “ Menandy, I luv u even if you are a fugitive”
He took me by the hand and led me to the kitchen where my oldest daughter was trying to hold her mouth shut with both hands, unsuccessfully. Across the room my little friend's mom was shaking with laughter, unable to look at me for fear she wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and his dad was frantically stirring a pot of empty spaghetti water. Somehow, the laughter among people I have come to trust helped me think more realistically.
After that, I went to a friend’s house and planted the ferns in her yard. It was dark by then, so the sense of sneaky crime had crept back into my head. There I was, hunched over the dirt digging a hole like a murderer digs a hole for his victim. I stopped and said into the dark,"Oh Lordy." I quickly finished putting the illegally adopted ferns to bed, then I went inside and spilled out my story.
No one there seemed to see me as a rotten crook, either. My teen friend was intently typing on her laptop, appearing to be working hard on homework, though i suspect she may have stumbled into her facebook account. She never looked up, but said, " You didn't do anything wrong." It felt like a line on a chinese fortune cookie. I wanted to believe it.
I stayed a while, grabbed some much needed hugs and headed home.
My cats were glad to see me. My landlord had not called or left me a notice. I began to think that maybe, like Alexander, I had just had a few minutes of a no good very bad day. So I went to bed.
It was good while it lasted, and the plants that came home with me last Spring and yesterday, will have chances to live and thrive. I think that’s as good as it gets.
As for the irate woman? I think she just needs a good bite of chocolate, and maybe if she’d unsproing herself from spandex and pointy high heels, she may see things a little differently.
I’m not planning on finding out, though.
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