Funny the different kinds of friendships that are formed from the desk of the church secretary. Such a variety of relationships grow and flourish on many different levels, all have distinct places in my heart.
There are people I know only by their email addresses, and others who I can identify through voice recognition alone. Some are familiar faces that routinely pass by my office with a quick glance.... again and again and again. Particular people pop in to grab a piece of bubblegum, or maybe they are called to the stress eze nut mix or the anti-oxident mixage and on occassion the password protected mixage. People can be identified by their footsteps, or their walking pace, as well. Many folks I only know by heart, not name.
My Pastor boss can easily be identified by the jingle of his door when he throws it open to search me out. I think his mind explodes with sparkling spontaneous thoughts, when he cloisters himself behind that pastor parlor door- wild thoughts that send him flying across the hall sputtering tasks or questions my way. He is a very energetic and creative sort, this man. He leaves a trail of gossamer behind him when he passes through any place. It's a very good thing.
We have an ongoing chuckle between us that I can sit behind my desk for hours, days, months, without ever being called to his attention, but invariably, the moment my toes cross the threshold of my office, he will simultaneously be in great need of my office skills and will call my name with intention- "Church Chick!!" Once, i heard his cry while I was visiting the second floor restroom. I am in tune with his tone now that I've worked with him for a while. We've tested the pattern before and it runs true. I may be in the kitchen, the copy room, the mail room, my other boss's office, or hanging outside my office window in search of respite, and bingo- I am the name of the hour. It's an honor to be needed, of course. In truth, it is just what it is- another serendipitious pleasant aspect of my job. oh- I'm weaving off the track a bit.... .....
We have a lovely group of warm bodies who have been on this earth a long time, and for this reason- among others- we call them grand. This group meets weekly to share the joy of long-lived friendships and good food. They take turns cooking, and they often times have a speaker. Last week, a group of fancy dancers came and kicked around a while. Once a year, they participate in a bells lesson and the building is filled with notes and rhythm.
I've grown accustomed to their grand patter and wheeling around. On occassion, they will take field trips. I was surprised to find that I felt a great sense of empty-nestness when they took a springtime trip recently. The building grieved the missing presence of my favorite tinkerbell friends.
I love those folks. They are the world in one room. They have lived many lives in many places. One woman wears unique necklaces, she brought me her collection for show and tell one day. kalediscopes, one inch in size, and in perfect working order. How magic is that?
Several of these special friends also volunteer at the front desk, and so they have become work peers. Many are very involved in committee work or other missions within the church - but they are all gifts. Every one of them, and I miss them when they are gone.
I find myself shifting into parent mode when they travel. I boarded the bus last trip and reminded them to behave. How silly is that? Well, if you knew this crew, you'd say 'not silly at all.' I spoke to the bus driver and told him to drive with all the care he carried in his soul and to bring them back in all their many pieces and parts. I must have used my "mom" voice, because he answered with a solemn 'Yes, Ma'am". Maybe I'll add mom to my list of titles in this job. or maybe not.
Today is a field trip day. sighhhhh. I passed out mints to ensure a more enjoyable venue for conversation in close quarters between friends on the bus. I told them to "NOT distract the driver, either." and to come back safely, " I mean it now, SAFE-LEE".
I trust that they will return with many a story to tell at next week's luncheon, but today, the halls will wilt with emptiness.
Showing posts with label church secretary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church secretary. Show all posts
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Monday, September 19, 2005
Stalking first class
It was a dark and stormy night.
No. It was a muggy and fuzzy morning.
Yeah. That’s more like it…..It was a morning not unlike the weather scene in Psycho when the girl-on-the-run pulls into the motel and gazes up at the house on the hill where, unbeknownst to her a lone skeleton rocks the day away.
Even Church ladies need time to breathe and regroup from the frazzle and dazzle of Fall planning, and my time had come. The week had spun faster than a kid on chocolate, and there were stacks of plates on poles filling my office, too many to balance, so I decided to take a short escape and steal away for a couple of days. I tied up the loose ends the best I could, and called Churchlady Temps, that infamous agency that hires only the best of the best. They sent their number one chick right over, and I was off.
I met up with two other escapees, and we hit the road. About twenty minutes into the trip, I was stricken by a horrid thought. I had not cleaned out my PO box that morning. I did go the night before, but, gosh, that was nearly 12 hours ago. What would Frank say? Frank, the impatient postal person. Frank, first cousin to Jaws (the metal-mouthed angry assassin from 007 movies). Oh, good grief. Should I turn back? I was torn.
Had it not been for my two devoted friends restraining me via multi-seat belt to the seat, I would have leaped from the window and rolled my way back home to take care of that important detail. Oh. Oh, woah. I couldn’t bear to think what may be awaiting my return if I failed to clear out that box in a timely fashion. Nevertheless, the farther we went into the trip, the better I felt.
An hour and two counties later, I decided that it was certainly not wise to u-turn for the sake of a silly little post office box clean out. It could wait until my return in 72 hours. Surely, it could.
We decided to make a pit stop in a nearby McD’s for coffee. I entered the restaurant and waited for my two friends to order. Then I noticed the hairs on the back of my neck. They were standing up, and had started to vibrate. I felt my neck stiffen. My feet felt like lead. I was frozen in the early morning chaos of a highway fast food restaurant. What was THAT about?
Something drew my attention away from the cash register, and a bright blue baseball hat bill leaped into my vision. SIEZE THE DAY was written in glow- in- the- dark- lime . Gray-rimmed tri-focals peeked out from underneath the oversized hat awning. I knew those eyes. I knew them well. Those were the eyes that bore holes into the back of my head every time I visited the Post Office. Those were the eyes of Frank. “What are You doing HERE?” he fussed.
“I’m I- I- I’m going out of town” I stammered.
“What? THAT way?” He pointed toward the open road out of town. My voice trembled “Yes” while my head shook a resounding NO.
He picked up a sugar packet and popped it in his mouth. “Wow” I thought to myself. He eats it paper and all. Wow.
“Shouldn’t you be going the OTHER way?” Sugar crystals spit out across the floor when he spoke.
“ Uh, I think we’re following a map, uh, we’re going that way, I think it’s right.”
Where were my friends? Where did they disappear to?
He tipped the bill of his hat so that I could clearly see the large print. He reached up and pulled out a small wet ball of paper from his mouth. I watched in horror as he rolled it into a super spit ball and sat aghast as he threw it straight up. I was afraid to follow its path, but couldn’t resist the urge. When I looked up, I noticed that the ceiling I had thought was splattered with stucco was really covered with spit balls. I guess Frank frequented this place often-I guessed that he was a regular.
His voice pulled my attention his way. “You got that PO box cleaned out, little lady? You keepin’ it neat?” He shook his head, pulled off his hat and replaced it tenderly on his head of gray hair. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” And then he was gone. It was then I knew.
It was then I realized that Frank would plague me as long as I worked behind the door called Church Secretary. There was clearly no escape. Miles couldn't protect me, nor county distance. That moment was a life altering spec of time. I crushed the empty paper cup I held and lifted it up to the spitball audience. “With God as my witness, I will keep my post office box from overflowing. I’ll never be trayed again.”
“So, are you ready? Or do you want to stay a little longer and maybe sing a song while you stand there?” The familiar voice of one of my traveling friends broke my concentration. “Uh, no, I’m ready. Let me just throw this cup away is all.” And we were off.
The present can exhaust us, the Future draws us ever forward, the past is powerful but I say with great intention, friend, Never underestimate the power of the Post.
No. It was a muggy and fuzzy morning.
Yeah. That’s more like it…..It was a morning not unlike the weather scene in Psycho when the girl-on-the-run pulls into the motel and gazes up at the house on the hill where, unbeknownst to her a lone skeleton rocks the day away.
Even Church ladies need time to breathe and regroup from the frazzle and dazzle of Fall planning, and my time had come. The week had spun faster than a kid on chocolate, and there were stacks of plates on poles filling my office, too many to balance, so I decided to take a short escape and steal away for a couple of days. I tied up the loose ends the best I could, and called Churchlady Temps, that infamous agency that hires only the best of the best. They sent their number one chick right over, and I was off.
I met up with two other escapees, and we hit the road. About twenty minutes into the trip, I was stricken by a horrid thought. I had not cleaned out my PO box that morning. I did go the night before, but, gosh, that was nearly 12 hours ago. What would Frank say? Frank, the impatient postal person. Frank, first cousin to Jaws (the metal-mouthed angry assassin from 007 movies). Oh, good grief. Should I turn back? I was torn.
Had it not been for my two devoted friends restraining me via multi-seat belt to the seat, I would have leaped from the window and rolled my way back home to take care of that important detail. Oh. Oh, woah. I couldn’t bear to think what may be awaiting my return if I failed to clear out that box in a timely fashion. Nevertheless, the farther we went into the trip, the better I felt.
An hour and two counties later, I decided that it was certainly not wise to u-turn for the sake of a silly little post office box clean out. It could wait until my return in 72 hours. Surely, it could.
We decided to make a pit stop in a nearby McD’s for coffee. I entered the restaurant and waited for my two friends to order. Then I noticed the hairs on the back of my neck. They were standing up, and had started to vibrate. I felt my neck stiffen. My feet felt like lead. I was frozen in the early morning chaos of a highway fast food restaurant. What was THAT about?
Something drew my attention away from the cash register, and a bright blue baseball hat bill leaped into my vision. SIEZE THE DAY was written in glow- in- the- dark- lime . Gray-rimmed tri-focals peeked out from underneath the oversized hat awning. I knew those eyes. I knew them well. Those were the eyes that bore holes into the back of my head every time I visited the Post Office. Those were the eyes of Frank. “What are You doing HERE?” he fussed.
“I’m I- I- I’m going out of town” I stammered.
“What? THAT way?” He pointed toward the open road out of town. My voice trembled “Yes” while my head shook a resounding NO.
He picked up a sugar packet and popped it in his mouth. “Wow” I thought to myself. He eats it paper and all. Wow.
“Shouldn’t you be going the OTHER way?” Sugar crystals spit out across the floor when he spoke.
“ Uh, I think we’re following a map, uh, we’re going that way, I think it’s right.”
Where were my friends? Where did they disappear to?
He tipped the bill of his hat so that I could clearly see the large print. He reached up and pulled out a small wet ball of paper from his mouth. I watched in horror as he rolled it into a super spit ball and sat aghast as he threw it straight up. I was afraid to follow its path, but couldn’t resist the urge. When I looked up, I noticed that the ceiling I had thought was splattered with stucco was really covered with spit balls. I guess Frank frequented this place often-I guessed that he was a regular.
His voice pulled my attention his way. “You got that PO box cleaned out, little lady? You keepin’ it neat?” He shook his head, pulled off his hat and replaced it tenderly on his head of gray hair. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” And then he was gone. It was then I knew.
It was then I realized that Frank would plague me as long as I worked behind the door called Church Secretary. There was clearly no escape. Miles couldn't protect me, nor county distance. That moment was a life altering spec of time. I crushed the empty paper cup I held and lifted it up to the spitball audience. “With God as my witness, I will keep my post office box from overflowing. I’ll never be trayed again.”
“So, are you ready? Or do you want to stay a little longer and maybe sing a song while you stand there?” The familiar voice of one of my traveling friends broke my concentration. “Uh, no, I’m ready. Let me just throw this cup away is all.” And we were off.
The present can exhaust us, the Future draws us ever forward, the past is powerful but I say with great intention, friend, Never underestimate the power of the Post.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
church lady office hats
It’s not only the church lady job that wears many hats, friends. The church chick’s office also serves many purposes.
Sometimes, as general conversation is birthed in the hallway, more concentrated issues arise from that and in those instances, the church chick’s nest acts as a funnel for those deeper continuations of hallway discussions.
There is something about crossing the threshold into my office that effects voice volume, I’ve noticed. The walls in my office must subliminally attract lower tones. Really important chats demand whispers. Funny thing about whispers. They stick. Many times, I’ve noticed my own pastor’s voice remaining hushed throughout the day after he’s been in my office whisper/discussing some important something. It makes for quiet hallways, but still, it feels a little ghostly.
Another hat that the church office wears is that of EMS, or ER Emergency Room. I keep band aids handy, and as previously mentioned, there is a hard and fast rule regarding the use of those. No blood –no band aid rules. On the occasion that band aids are in order, it is vital for the church chick to maintain her composure, to switch into mom mode. This happened recently when a visitor mis-stepped from her car and missed the curb. The sidewalk, insulted fom going unnoticed by the human- proceeded to snack on the visitor’s elbows and face. She was rattled, scraped and scrunched. We helped her into the cozy chair in my office and sponged her off, bandaided her up. I tracked down the Pastor who was slammed that day with counseling sessions back to back. He graciously came in my office to be sure she was okay. He is just that kind of caring soul. My biggest concern was the fact that we were all wearing a little bit of her blood, and his starched white shirt looked as if it wanted to get in on that , too. Somehow , we managed to keep his shirt away from her scrapes, and after speaking a few calming words to her, I sent him back into his next session- a couple anxious to wed. I just think the sight of a crisp white Pastor is so much more comforting than a blood spattered version. There’s plenty of time to talk about crucifixion later, right?
Sometimes people come in just because they can. I like those times the best.
There are other times when the sole purpose of my space is to provide HCVs- High Caloric Value foods. That’s okay, too.
Venting works well, if you crack your window to allow said vents to exit the building without confronting any solid surfaces.
Once, even, my office doubled as a Motel 6. I’m out of that business now, though. No more sleepovers for wayward wanderers.
Of course, we’ve housed church mice, and birds- so I guess that qualifies my office as zoo potential
Visitors sit in my comfy round chair while they wait to see the Pastor. The chair has been around longer than I have, and it is deep and round and feels like a hug when you sit in it.
Lost and Found
I have a spot called Melanie’s pick up/drop off spot, and this is the central location that I put all misplaced items. One member wears a hat, he comes in with it, and invariably leaves it in random places around the church. I like to track it down and put it in my pick up drop off spot and see how long it takes him to find it. It’s become a game. Oh, the distractions we seek out in the course of a day, eh?
Sometimes, as general conversation is birthed in the hallway, more concentrated issues arise from that and in those instances, the church chick’s nest acts as a funnel for those deeper continuations of hallway discussions.
There is something about crossing the threshold into my office that effects voice volume, I’ve noticed. The walls in my office must subliminally attract lower tones. Really important chats demand whispers. Funny thing about whispers. They stick. Many times, I’ve noticed my own pastor’s voice remaining hushed throughout the day after he’s been in my office whisper/discussing some important something. It makes for quiet hallways, but still, it feels a little ghostly.
Another hat that the church office wears is that of EMS, or ER Emergency Room. I keep band aids handy, and as previously mentioned, there is a hard and fast rule regarding the use of those. No blood –no band aid rules. On the occasion that band aids are in order, it is vital for the church chick to maintain her composure, to switch into mom mode. This happened recently when a visitor mis-stepped from her car and missed the curb. The sidewalk, insulted fom going unnoticed by the human- proceeded to snack on the visitor’s elbows and face. She was rattled, scraped and scrunched. We helped her into the cozy chair in my office and sponged her off, bandaided her up. I tracked down the Pastor who was slammed that day with counseling sessions back to back. He graciously came in my office to be sure she was okay. He is just that kind of caring soul. My biggest concern was the fact that we were all wearing a little bit of her blood, and his starched white shirt looked as if it wanted to get in on that , too. Somehow , we managed to keep his shirt away from her scrapes, and after speaking a few calming words to her, I sent him back into his next session- a couple anxious to wed. I just think the sight of a crisp white Pastor is so much more comforting than a blood spattered version. There’s plenty of time to talk about crucifixion later, right?
Sometimes people come in just because they can. I like those times the best.
There are other times when the sole purpose of my space is to provide HCVs- High Caloric Value foods. That’s okay, too.
Venting works well, if you crack your window to allow said vents to exit the building without confronting any solid surfaces.
Once, even, my office doubled as a Motel 6. I’m out of that business now, though. No more sleepovers for wayward wanderers.
Of course, we’ve housed church mice, and birds- so I guess that qualifies my office as zoo potential
Visitors sit in my comfy round chair while they wait to see the Pastor. The chair has been around longer than I have, and it is deep and round and feels like a hug when you sit in it.
Lost and Found
I have a spot called Melanie’s pick up/drop off spot, and this is the central location that I put all misplaced items. One member wears a hat, he comes in with it, and invariably leaves it in random places around the church. I like to track it down and put it in my pick up drop off spot and see how long it takes him to find it. It’s become a game. Oh, the distractions we seek out in the course of a day, eh?
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Pranks in-house
I like to find ways to invite the passers by to stop by my office. I like company, I guess. I also enjoy watching human nature in action, I like watching nature, as well. WE'll get to that later.
I keep a small white board attached to my office door and I call it the Joy board. The big parent white board is used for births,deaths,and illnesses. period. I thought it might be nice to have a board for the incidentals life brings into our path. So, we use it for things like children getting good grades, vacation celebrations, birthdays, just because stuff. The people who come by are interested in all of it.
I received a lovely photo in the mail a while ago, an ad for a photo agency. THe family photo looked like it could be you or your neighbor. Very real. I cut off the advertisment border and stuck it on my door. I hoped someone would come by and say, " Oh, there's the Jones', I haven
t seen them around church recently, wonder what they are doing..." or " Oh! I know them!! lovely family, what is their name again?" The picture brought about lots of hesitant moments. People would stop and look and think, then move on. I later found out that many of them were afraid they didn't know the family, so they just said nothing. One couple commented on the lovliness of the family pic and asked who they were. I got great joy from watching people come by and try to figure that picture out. Truth is, if I knew who they really were, I'd offer them an invitation to work church, as they seem to fit right in, anonymous or not. Oh, that's another unwritten job in our ever-growing CL job descrip. Keep the congregation on their toes whenever possible.
I keep a small white board attached to my office door and I call it the Joy board. The big parent white board is used for births,deaths,and illnesses. period. I thought it might be nice to have a board for the incidentals life brings into our path. So, we use it for things like children getting good grades, vacation celebrations, birthdays, just because stuff. The people who come by are interested in all of it.
I received a lovely photo in the mail a while ago, an ad for a photo agency. THe family photo looked like it could be you or your neighbor. Very real. I cut off the advertisment border and stuck it on my door. I hoped someone would come by and say, " Oh, there's the Jones', I haven
t seen them around church recently, wonder what they are doing..." or " Oh! I know them!! lovely family, what is their name again?" The picture brought about lots of hesitant moments. People would stop and look and think, then move on. I later found out that many of them were afraid they didn't know the family, so they just said nothing. One couple commented on the lovliness of the family pic and asked who they were. I got great joy from watching people come by and try to figure that picture out. Truth is, if I knew who they really were, I'd offer them an invitation to work church, as they seem to fit right in, anonymous or not. Oh, that's another unwritten job in our ever-growing CL job descrip. Keep the congregation on their toes whenever possible.
Stay in the moment
It is crucial for Church Ladies to remain in the moment. To be present at all times, and this task isn't always easy. I mean, there are many days when I sit down to complete a task and two digits into it the phone rings and that call takes me to another task, and then the mailman comes and the UPS guy is racing Fed Ex that day, so both boys come knocking and then the Pastor flies a paper airplane of his weekly thoughts for the newsletter across the hall to my office and the day is over and I go home and my children say, "what did you do today, you look so tired" and I can't for the life of me think of one single thing I did. That's just how it goes sometimes.
Parenting runs a very similar track. But that's another blog.
Juggling, multi-tasking, controlled chaos, call it what you will -the fact remains that someone needs to keep track of all that crud crawling around, and well, ladies, that someone is YOU.
I keep a chart on my desk where I write down everything as it happens, so I can go back and see what I missed later. It really helps, it does. It helps with most things, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't help with blind piano tuners. Yes, you heard me.
We have 26 pianos in our building. Two years ago, there were only 14, but something happened, we don't know if it was the building renovations or if it was behaviour in the dead of night, but those pianos have now multiplied to 26 and 12 are baby grands, if you catch my drift. We have a delightful blind piano tuner who comes annually and spends a few weeks tuning those melodious wooden boxes. He likes to work alone, and he tunes in a most delightful way. He plays softly, repetitively, calmlyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time. I accompanied him downstairs to the dungeon where he worked for a good hour on the lone piano there. I sat in a chair and actually was lulled to sleep by his work. I like cat naps, so it was a good thing, but then something happened.
I brought him upstairs, and carefully planted him in front of another box. The chaos of my job kicked in, and before I had him firmly parked, I had accumulated 3 or 4 more tasks to be done NOW. Ichecked my watch, left him tuning, and I returned to my desk where the daily storms were in full force tossing papers and calls all over the place. Time passed, or rather time escaped me. I heard a friend call out, "Lunch?" and I dropped what I was doing, realizing I was dizzy from hunger. We ate something quick and returned so I could get back to my mountain of busi-ness. I walked into the building and was met with the lilting melody of faint piano music. I immediately remembered the piano tuner and dropped my bag, ran down the hall to where I had left him. There he stood, just as I had left him, only now, he was playing songs. He spoke before I had a chance to catch my breath. " Ready?"
" I'm so sorry, I took so long, I am so sorry."
"No problem, it happens all the time- just take me to the next piano."
I delivered him and went back to my office where the maintenance guy was waiting for me.
"You'd forgotten him, didn't you? You forget he was even here?" He shook his head right at me.
" Yes, I feel so guilty, but yes, I did."
" I'll take him around, it's getting late in the day and we don't want him stuck here all night."
I pictured the church, late at night. Dark, lonely walls. and then, breaking the silence of dark comes a small voice from afar.... " helll000000?? hell0000000??? Is anybody there?"
Well, I tell you, sister. I broke right down. "Oh, yes. take him, please take him. It's the only way to go!"
Staying in the moment isn't always easy when you are pulled in different directions,so keep your backup handy. You might need help with important tasks sometimes.
Parenting runs a very similar track. But that's another blog.
Juggling, multi-tasking, controlled chaos, call it what you will -the fact remains that someone needs to keep track of all that crud crawling around, and well, ladies, that someone is YOU.
I keep a chart on my desk where I write down everything as it happens, so I can go back and see what I missed later. It really helps, it does. It helps with most things, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't help with blind piano tuners. Yes, you heard me.
We have 26 pianos in our building. Two years ago, there were only 14, but something happened, we don't know if it was the building renovations or if it was behaviour in the dead of night, but those pianos have now multiplied to 26 and 12 are baby grands, if you catch my drift. We have a delightful blind piano tuner who comes annually and spends a few weeks tuning those melodious wooden boxes. He likes to work alone, and he tunes in a most delightful way. He plays softly, repetitively, calmlyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time. I accompanied him downstairs to the dungeon where he worked for a good hour on the lone piano there. I sat in a chair and actually was lulled to sleep by his work. I like cat naps, so it was a good thing, but then something happened.
I brought him upstairs, and carefully planted him in front of another box. The chaos of my job kicked in, and before I had him firmly parked, I had accumulated 3 or 4 more tasks to be done NOW. Ichecked my watch, left him tuning, and I returned to my desk where the daily storms were in full force tossing papers and calls all over the place. Time passed, or rather time escaped me. I heard a friend call out, "Lunch?" and I dropped what I was doing, realizing I was dizzy from hunger. We ate something quick and returned so I could get back to my mountain of busi-ness. I walked into the building and was met with the lilting melody of faint piano music. I immediately remembered the piano tuner and dropped my bag, ran down the hall to where I had left him. There he stood, just as I had left him, only now, he was playing songs. He spoke before I had a chance to catch my breath. " Ready?"
" I'm so sorry, I took so long, I am so sorry."
"No problem, it happens all the time- just take me to the next piano."
I delivered him and went back to my office where the maintenance guy was waiting for me.
"You'd forgotten him, didn't you? You forget he was even here?" He shook his head right at me.
" Yes, I feel so guilty, but yes, I did."
" I'll take him around, it's getting late in the day and we don't want him stuck here all night."
I pictured the church, late at night. Dark, lonely walls. and then, breaking the silence of dark comes a small voice from afar.... " helll000000?? hell0000000??? Is anybody there?"
Well, I tell you, sister. I broke right down. "Oh, yes. take him, please take him. It's the only way to go!"
Staying in the moment isn't always easy when you are pulled in different directions,so keep your backup handy. You might need help with important tasks sometimes.
Seeing Straight
Church Chicks need to know how to do lots of things, sure fire. One important task is writing. Writing quick notes to slide under the Pastor's door when you can't tell if he's in there with someone or if he is not in there at all or if he's in there alone. Those of us who remain a little shell shocked from disturbing our boss one too many times via the phone intercom will often times resort to using the slide-under-the-door method of communication. That is only one writing task, however. Others include-quick pen phone messages, and making last minute signs to hold up to the Pastor who is still on the phone after 30 minutes. -your wife is still waiting- is an example of an important sign one might use on occasion.
We are also the ones who find ourselves writing on the white board. The hallway outside my office holds up an information board.The white board says who is sick or dying or giving birth. These bits of info need to be clear and straight. As a Church Chick who does not own such a skill as seeing straight, my messages on the white board tend to travel much as a path up and around a steep mountain looks. ... my writing trails with bumps and sudden jerks about as much as a teen driver does as she drives the family car. You can see my dilemma.
The congregation, or anyone for that matter who enters the main hallway, passes by that sign to stay in the "know" and if the message isn't clear, there can be problems.
" Shirley Gufstark is the proud parent of... ? My God, it's a miracle!! The woman is 89 years old!!"
"Richard Blane has just been moved to Rex Rehab? The child's 2 days old! what rehab could he be having?"
You can see the Inquirer News potential ... It is an ongoing struggle for me and I'm happy to report, apparently for others in this biz as well. I am here to tell you that white boards are now equipped to help the slight of sighted. I purchased a new one this week that has faint lines and dots on it. You can't see them in passing, but you can sure read the type better. Go now, Go now I tell you, and buy one for your own church white board. It's worth the cost of shipping, I kid you not. The sooner you set things straight the sooner you can make your next mistake.
We are also the ones who find ourselves writing on the white board. The hallway outside my office holds up an information board.The white board says who is sick or dying or giving birth. These bits of info need to be clear and straight. As a Church Chick who does not own such a skill as seeing straight, my messages on the white board tend to travel much as a path up and around a steep mountain looks. ... my writing trails with bumps and sudden jerks about as much as a teen driver does as she drives the family car. You can see my dilemma.
The congregation, or anyone for that matter who enters the main hallway, passes by that sign to stay in the "know" and if the message isn't clear, there can be problems.
" Shirley Gufstark is the proud parent of... ? My God, it's a miracle!! The woman is 89 years old!!"
"Richard Blane has just been moved to Rex Rehab? The child's 2 days old! what rehab could he be having?"
You can see the Inquirer News potential ... It is an ongoing struggle for me and I'm happy to report, apparently for others in this biz as well. I am here to tell you that white boards are now equipped to help the slight of sighted. I purchased a new one this week that has faint lines and dots on it. You can't see them in passing, but you can sure read the type better. Go now, Go now I tell you, and buy one for your own church white board. It's worth the cost of shipping, I kid you not. The sooner you set things straight the sooner you can make your next mistake.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Don't get too far ahead
Let’s face it, people- the staff that surround us depend on us for those million and one scrips and scraps of information. Where is this? When is that? Who do you think you are? All of it and more … Second guessing can be a handy tool at times, but be forewarned- don’t go overboard.
Being too far ahead of the game can backfire if you aren’t careful. Even the best intentions can become self-angst if misguided or driven by late afternoon panic. You never know when a class that you have copied weekly lesson handouts for for several weeks, may jump the schedule or skip around. Don’t let it go to your head if you come in early or stay late copying a semester full of weekly classroom sheets, or you may find yourself standing before the paper guillotine axing them, trimming them, or making paper doll decorations for your office with them.
On the other hand, one can never have enough note paper, now, can one?
Church Chick
Being too far ahead of the game can backfire if you aren’t careful. Even the best intentions can become self-angst if misguided or driven by late afternoon panic. You never know when a class that you have copied weekly lesson handouts for for several weeks, may jump the schedule or skip around. Don’t let it go to your head if you come in early or stay late copying a semester full of weekly classroom sheets, or you may find yourself standing before the paper guillotine axing them, trimming them, or making paper doll decorations for your office with them.
On the other hand, one can never have enough note paper, now, can one?
Church Chick
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Resourcefulness?? never can have enough
So- resourcefulness is always a requirement, and is sometimes a spur of the moment experience.
Say, for instance a day starts out a little frantic, maybe staff meeting runs over, maybe a large part of the meeting is dedicated to discussing the congregational demands for coffee. Members are complaining about not having enough available caffeine between SS and Church. They don’t like the location of the coffee wells, or they take issue with the strength of the hot liquid. Important matters such as these can add time to important staffmeetings.
Yes, perhaps the day in the twilight zone of the church lady starts out as such. Then it progresses to copy machine mania .. and then, maybe a little fender bender makes itself known in the church parking lot, and then in the middle of trying to calm the senior citizen who clipped the church lady’s car, a full beef tenderloin lands in the church lady’s only free hand. The grocery bag is hung over her gaping claws, the delivery person mouthing who it needs to go to…. Be delivered to….while her other hand is clutching the phone, the church lady is multitasking, reading lips and trying to decipher what the insurance company is telling her about her car over the phone. Meanwhile, the driver impaired senior is pacing the hallways of God, trying to beg forgiveness for his sins, then forgetting what those sins were, and then further forgetting who he is praying to – oh the chaos of a cold Monday.
An experienced Church Chick will not let such mania distract her from her duties. She may very well remain on hold, squeezing the receiver between her ear and shoulder, freeing up a hand to uncrank her office window. Looping the plastic bag over the window lock, she may push the meat outside and quick crank the window shut. Now, when the tenderloin is picked up, it will be well chilled. Problem solved.
The insurance people will call back, so that call can end.
Leaving the Church Chick with the pacing orthopedic shoes. There’s a rhythm to pacing, ladies. If you stand and just watch the doorway, the pattern will emerge.. Similar to jumping rope, time your entrance, and just take a giant step into the travel path of the pacer and wait with open arms. Hug the distraught soul, and send them on their way. Then, be grateful for the mentor who trained you so well. An inexperienced CL may not have fared so well.
Church Chick
Say, for instance a day starts out a little frantic, maybe staff meeting runs over, maybe a large part of the meeting is dedicated to discussing the congregational demands for coffee. Members are complaining about not having enough available caffeine between SS and Church. They don’t like the location of the coffee wells, or they take issue with the strength of the hot liquid. Important matters such as these can add time to important staffmeetings.
Yes, perhaps the day in the twilight zone of the church lady starts out as such. Then it progresses to copy machine mania .. and then, maybe a little fender bender makes itself known in the church parking lot, and then in the middle of trying to calm the senior citizen who clipped the church lady’s car, a full beef tenderloin lands in the church lady’s only free hand. The grocery bag is hung over her gaping claws, the delivery person mouthing who it needs to go to…. Be delivered to….while her other hand is clutching the phone, the church lady is multitasking, reading lips and trying to decipher what the insurance company is telling her about her car over the phone. Meanwhile, the driver impaired senior is pacing the hallways of God, trying to beg forgiveness for his sins, then forgetting what those sins were, and then further forgetting who he is praying to – oh the chaos of a cold Monday.
An experienced Church Chick will not let such mania distract her from her duties. She may very well remain on hold, squeezing the receiver between her ear and shoulder, freeing up a hand to uncrank her office window. Looping the plastic bag over the window lock, she may push the meat outside and quick crank the window shut. Now, when the tenderloin is picked up, it will be well chilled. Problem solved.
The insurance people will call back, so that call can end.
Leaving the Church Chick with the pacing orthopedic shoes. There’s a rhythm to pacing, ladies. If you stand and just watch the doorway, the pattern will emerge.. Similar to jumping rope, time your entrance, and just take a giant step into the travel path of the pacer and wait with open arms. Hug the distraught soul, and send them on their way. Then, be grateful for the mentor who trained you so well. An inexperienced CL may not have fared so well.
Church Chick
Job skills of the CL
Church ladies are pushed to find new and different ways of keeping their co-workers in line. It is easy to be buried under a heap of small projects that float in one paperclipped parcel at a time. often, one project is indeed a fast and easy task, but many times the paperclip hides the fine print and it isn't until mid way through that you realize what you've got. Now, we CLs know our abilities. We've got plenty or we wouldn't be in this biz- Apps for CLs are skill-specific, and rightly so.
have you birthed a human before
have you driven in the dark with your headlights off and reached your destination?
have you talked your way out of a ticket?
More than once?
have you birthed a human before
have you driven in the dark with your headlights off and reached your destination?
have you talked your way out of a ticket?
More than once?
Church Lady Subscription
Thank you for inquiring about The Church Lady Chronicles-
Subscriptions are free- for a limited time, of course, and we'd like to offer you this
wonderful opportunity!!
The Church Lady Chronicles will enlighten those who wonder what it is that
Church ladies actually do-
Research shows that the daily experiences of Church Chicks parallel life in general.
For instance, the frustrations parents endure while trying to manage their teenage daughters often times resembles the frustration of trying to use a multi-line phone with no labels on the buttons and that has a permanent set of engraved directions on the back of the black phone, embossed black on black, and in a language not- of –this- universe.
The potential for understanding between the parents/teens and the CL/phone is pretty much the same. Even on a good day, when conversations are almost coherent with young adults, there are moments when you almost connect, then, without warning, tempers flare, hormones rage, and the conversation goes down the drain.
In the life of a Church lady, the phone rings, she answers it, realizes that it is still ringing; she is so close to having a connection, so close. She puts the receiver on the desk to (AHA!) read the directions that have been place so conveniently on the underneath side of the phone, and realizes when she turns the machine over to read it, that her call is immediately disconnected. So close, in both situations. and yet....
We look forward to hearing from our subscribers, feedback is very helpful to us-
We will send you the back issues tomorrow, as soon as we have your reply.
Thanks again for your interest in The Church Lady Chronicles
Subscriptions are free- for a limited time, of course, and we'd like to offer you this
wonderful opportunity!!
The Church Lady Chronicles will enlighten those who wonder what it is that
Church ladies actually do-
Research shows that the daily experiences of Church Chicks parallel life in general.
For instance, the frustrations parents endure while trying to manage their teenage daughters often times resembles the frustration of trying to use a multi-line phone with no labels on the buttons and that has a permanent set of engraved directions on the back of the black phone, embossed black on black, and in a language not- of –this- universe.
The potential for understanding between the parents/teens and the CL/phone is pretty much the same. Even on a good day, when conversations are almost coherent with young adults, there are moments when you almost connect, then, without warning, tempers flare, hormones rage, and the conversation goes down the drain.
In the life of a Church lady, the phone rings, she answers it, realizes that it is still ringing; she is so close to having a connection, so close. She puts the receiver on the desk to (AHA!) read the directions that have been place so conveniently on the underneath side of the phone, and realizes when she turns the machine over to read it, that her call is immediately disconnected. So close, in both situations. and yet....
We look forward to hearing from our subscribers, feedback is very helpful to us-
We will send you the back issues tomorrow, as soon as we have your reply.
Thanks again for your interest in The Church Lady Chronicles
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