Patron: “I would like to make a complaint about God.”
Me: “Pardon me?”
Patron: “I come in here all the time! I am told this is the house of God and I never see Him!”
Me: “You do realize that you won’t physically ‘see’ God in the Church? House of God means you can come here to communicate with Him, or seek counsel from those who do.”
Patron: “Is that you?”
Me: “I am qualified, yes.”
Patron: “So you’re in direct communication with God?”
Me: “I interpret the scriptures for guidance, and I pray. I don’t have direct communication.”
Patron: “So you’re not with God?”
Me: “I study Him and His will.”
Patron: “You’re not friends?”
Me: “No.”
Patron: “Not even colleagues?”
Me: “No.”
Patron: “Anyone around here higher up that might be?”
Me: “No more than anyone else I’m afraid.”
Patron: “What about that Pope guy? He’s always talking about what God said.”
(I work in a church, and answer our public phone.)
Caller: “Hey… I need y’all to come out to [Motel] and take me to the airport.”
Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that.”
Caller: “Oh, and bring forty-five dollars.”
Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I cannot come pick you up.”
Caller: “What? I just came to your crummy town for a weekend and now I gotta get back home. Why the h*** aren’t you helping me? I just need a ride and forty-five dollars!”
Me: “Sir, I’m afraid I can’t.”
Caller: “Ain’t y’all a church? Why don’t you get off your lazy a** and come get me?”
Me: “Sir, I am not accustomed to meeting strange men at motels.”
Caller: “Well, it’s obvious YOU ain’t a Christian!”