David McElroy

making sense of a dysfunctional culture

Wait, was she flirting with me? My history shows I’m clueless

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She’s one of the managers at a restaurant where I sometimes go for lunch. I’ve been going in there for a couple of years and I know Anna well enough to be friendly when we see each other. She’s about 28 and her company transferred her here from Colorado about four years ago.

She told me a few weeks ago that she was leaving the company for a job with a local competitor. I told her I was sorry to hear that and that I’d be sorry not to see her anymore. When I was there Thursday, she told me it was her last day.

“I really hate it you’re leaving,” I said. “I hope you like the new job.”

And then my bag of food showed up and I turned to leave, saying, “Bye!” It took me a few seconds to realize she was following me out the door. When I realized she was coming after me, I turned to see why — since I was puzzled.

“You understand this is really my last day, right?” she said. I could tell she was flustered but I had no idea why.

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Finding joy brings more happiness than the empty pursuit of pleasure

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I see God in trees.

I see our Creator in sunsets and flowers and children’s eyes. I see this Universal Spirit in beauty all around me. When I watch clouds or stars, I see creative intent which matches the most breathtaking art of man. And when I see and feel a thunderstorm racing toward me across a valley, I feel connected to all of nature.

In those moments of intense joy at the experience of this world, I feel love. Something pours through me like “waves of liquid love,” in the memorable phrase of 19th century evangelist Charles Finney when he described his first encounter with God.

I don’t care what you call it. I call it God. I call it my Creator. You might call it Universal Spirit or just Nature. Whatever your theology or belief, almost everyone has experienced this deep joy at some point. But most of us quickly leave the experience behind.

We forget that we can find more happiness in the joy of a tree or a sunset than we will ever find in the pursuit of cold and soulless physical pleasures alone.

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If we disrespect skilled trades, we’re ignorant and arrogant fools

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As I walked into Lowe’s tonight, I realized I was too ignorant to even ask for the part by its name. Was it a socket? A plug-in doohickey? Or “the stuff under where the plug goes”?

I don’t remember what I called it now, but a couple of employees looked puzzled until one of them realized what I wanted and directed me to Aisle 12. After wandering that aisle and confirming how hopelessly ignorant I was with these parts, a nice fellow shopper asked what I was looking for. She directed me to the right place — on Aisle 13, it turned out — and advised me about which one to buy.

I was completely out of my element and it made me feel shame and regret — not for the first time — about the utter disdain which I used to have toward people who did the sort of blue-collar work which I looked down upon.

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