Life has its embarrassing moments; some worse than others
Life does, indeed, have its embarrassing moments. Sometimes, I think I experience more than my share.
Recently when my wife was recuperating in the hospital from a broken back, she grew a tad weary of hospital food and expressed a yearning for a Hardees’s hamburger. I acquiesced and went in search of such for my sweet lady in distress.
After waiting in a six-car, drive-through line, I placed my order: “I want a third-of-a- pound thick-burger.” The voice in the drive-in window asked that I repeat my order. I did. “I want a third-pound, thick-burger.” After repeating it yet a third time, she said, “I believe that is on the Hardees’s menu. I asked,”Well, where do you think I am,” whereupon, she politely replied, “MacDonald’s.” I was so embarrassed that I had gone to the wrong fast-foot establishment and I quietly apologized and sheepishly crept from the line of cars and headed to Hardees.
Reminds me of a newly-wed fellow, who, along with his new wife, was visiting his mother-in-law in the upstate for the first time. He was trying hard to make a good impression and when dinner was about to served, it was discovered that the takeout chicken restaurant had short-changed his mother-in-law a chicken breast. Our friend saw an opportunity to be a knight in shining armor and volunteered to go get the matter straightened out. He went down to Kentucky Fried Chicken with fire in his eyes. He pulled into the drive-in and told the attendant that they had failed to give his mother-in-law a full order. The drive-in girl told him he would have to come into the restaurant and speak with the manager. The folks back home were waiting on him, so, he said, “I’m not going anywhere until I get the missing chicken breast.” She called the manager to the window, who said, “Sir, you will have to come in and we will straighten this out. Our friend replied, “I’m not moving until I get the chicken breast.”
Cars were beginning to pile up in the drive-in lane and in frustration, the manager handed him a chicken breast.
Our friend returned triumphantly to his mother-in-law’s house with the bounty in hand. He reported that he had experienced a little trouble with the folks at KFC but “here’s your chicken breast.”
His new mother-in-law replied. “The chicken I bought came from Church’s Fried Chicken. Embarrassing? You bet.
This was not as bad, however, as what happened to a colleague of mine when I was a college professor at a Baptist affiliated university.
My friend, Andy, was an official of the university but he was also an ordained Baptist minister. As such, he was called upon occasionally to conduct revivals at various churches in the Carolinas.
He was on one such mission when he experienced the ultimate embarrassing moment. If you have never been involved in a Baptist revival, you cannot imagine the pressure on the visiting minister. He is not only expected to preach several nights in a row but visit members and prospective members during the day – all day. Additionally, he is expected to remain after each evening service to counsel with converts, etc.
Visiting preachers often stay in the home of a church member, usually, one of the deacons. Such was the case when Andy was conducting a revival in the SC upstate.
Did I mention that Andy was a rather robust individual? He was not only tall but also weighed in the vicinity of 300 pounds. The word “rotund” comes to mind.
On the final night of the revival, after an exhausting day and night, Andy returned to his host’s home after the family had gone to bed. He was so tired that he walked into the guest bedroom and without even turning on the lights, collapsed his huge frame, belly first, onto the bed.
He felt a lump under his stomach as he landed on the bed. Horror of horrors! The lump was “Jose.” Andy had smashed and killed the family’s little pet Chihuahua! Of course, he was horrified.
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to wake up his host family and subject them to the immediate sorrow of their dear pet’s demise. He thought for a moment about carrying the little dog outside and placing him by the street to create the illusion that the dog had been run over. He told himself, “NO! I can’t do that, I am a Baptist preacher, I don’t lie!”
Andy lay there all night with the little dead dog – dreading the morning when he would have to break the bad news to the family.
They took it as well as could be expected. After all, what can you say to a well-intentioned Baptist preacher who is a guest in your home? But, Andy was never invited back to hold services at that particular church.
Yes, indeed, life does have its embarrassing moments.