This went out, yesterday morning, “Several of us wanted to order lunch and have it delivered so we didn't have to venture out into the arctic weather. Attached is the link to the menu from [restaurant]. If you are interested, please let me know what you want to order and I need to have your money with tax no later than 10:00 am.”
I responded, “Just a thought, inspired (I hope) by the Golden Rule: it's not-OK for us to go out and get lunch today because it's so cold, but it's OK for somebody else to have to come out in the cold to bring us our lunch?”
Her reply? “Yes because it is their job, right?”
And I said, “Strictly speaking, yes, it is their job, and they are people who get cold just like we do. Maybe I'm overly sensitive to this because [the children’s father] delivered pizzas the summer before he went to chiropractic school. I used to read [a certain author’s] lifestyle books but got ticked at her when she said that when the weather was crummy, she ordered in pizza so she and her hubby wouldn’t get cold and wet, when one of the ‘things’ she was noted for was that we should be kind to, and considerate of, others. ... [Quirks: it's what makes me interesting, right?]”
It just smacks of elitism to me. We are cooler than they are, so they can run about in the awful weather, while we sit here in warmth and comfort, and tip them.
I might have been poor a little too long. I’m sure one could argue that if we do not call out for pizza, they don’t get the business, and they don’t get the tips they need. Maybe I should be the kind of rich person who has a porte-cochere and a coat rack just inside the door, and when the pizza dude shows up, I hand him a prodigious tip and a new coat for every member of his family.
I had a three-hour meeting this morning, up at the Bishop’s Storehouse in Carrollton. Welfare Services training for ward leadership: well-organized, insightful, and beautifully presented. Then we came back and I spent the afternoon running around like the proverbial headless chicken.
It is now 6:37pm by my computer. I wrote NintendoMan; “I need a two-minute cry, a one-hour shiatsu massage (or a three-hour Swedish massage), and a nap. [You don’t need to fix anything. I just need to vent, and by the time you get this and read this, I will probable be just fine again.]”
I am done taking care of others for a little while. I am going to log off and take care of Ms. Ravelled. See y’all in the morning.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!