Two Dreadful Places

There are two places that I hate going to more than anywhere in the entire world. These places are a place of utter shame and embarrassment. My ears hear nothing but the sound of weeping and gnashing teeth. When necessity demands a visit of these places (because Lacey won't go for me), I feel totally lost.

What are the two places?

Hardware stores and car garages.

Why? Because of the mandatory conversations that have to take place with the employees.

Hardware stores don't make me feel more manly. I know men are supposed to get excited about power tools that sponsor NASCAR drivers, but that's not me. In fact, the store depresses me because I know eventually I'm going to have ask an employee a question. It's going to come down to it. Do you know how humiliating it is to have to ask a 16 year old girl who works at Lowes a question about hardware? The entire time I pray that they don't know the answer, but will get "George" the old dude who plays the part of everyone's grandfather.

I hate car garages because the same dialogue always takes place.

Some dude with grease covered hands and a voice that would make Marvin Gaye jealous comes to tell me the damage. All of the sudden this becomes a "Who's More Manly Contest." A contest that I didn't enter and if I did, I couldn't win. They begin to tell me something about the car. About the time that they say, "Sir, did you know that you need..." I hear weeping and gnashing of teeth. The absence seizure set in and I'm totally oblivious to what they are saying. The man becomes an agent of scorn and is temporarily possessed by Beelzebub himself. I know he is judging me for not knowing anything about cars. By this point, my ears are burning so badly that I think the sides of my face are going to melt off if the flames were extinguished by my cold sweats.

My answer becomes a Terrell Owens pout fest. I reply with tear filled eyes and a quivering voice, "Dude, I love shoes, wearing argyle sweater vests, drinking hot tea, and blogging. Don't you know blogging is just glorified journaling for many of us? Do you really think I know anything about cars? Read the signs and quit judging me!"

Of course it never comes to that.

I wait until the man is finished, which probably takes less than 17 seconds, but it might as well be an eternity. All of the sudden, I can comprehend God's perspective of time. Once he is finished, I have to say, "I don't know anything about cars. Do what you have to do."

There are a couple of strategies that I've implemented to get around these shameful experiences. First, I've learned that if my father-in-law will go with me that saves me from complete humiliation. He does the talking and I become the quiet mysterious guy (which is always better than the nervous girly man). Second, I have learned that if you brag on them that they will accept your girliness better. So if you will say, "I don't know. You are much smarter than I am, that's why I'm paying you..." They will laugh and be as kind as can be. I suppose if I wore skinny jeans and showed them my Christie Brinkley butt that wouldn't hurt either, but that just seems dirty and wrong.

Recently, I was passing through a town and had to get an oil change. Pretty routine and I can handle that without my father-in-law. Since I was out of town, I wanted to go to a nationally known franchise. I found a well televised one. I waited in their nasty lobby that had only one other customer with nothing to do for five minutes and no one ever came to assist me, so I skedaddled.

My second stop was a chain that I had never heard of called "Tuffy's". The waiting area was clean. There were magazines, a television, and coffee. The manager warmly greeted me. He began to ask the routine questions (that I really should learn the answers to). I waited until he stopped and once I recovered from my seizure I said, "Man, I really don't know anything about cars."

I went and took a seat and read while I waited. During my time, I noticed that customers were coming and going. The manager knew everyone. Some people even stopped by just to say hello to the guy. He came and got me and said, "Do you know that you need..." I blacked out once he started talking about it. But then something astonishing happened. He said, "Let me show you." He walked me through the garage (a place I've never been and it turns out it is just as scary as I pictured it...power tools and cars together is unholy union). He took me to my vehicle and began to teach me. He showed me and explained what was happening in a way that I could understand. He earned my trust at that moment.

For the rest of the time, Julio and I talked on and off. We talked about everything from the city, to where we were from, to sports, to giving me insider secrets about the community. All of a sudden, I felt like I was in Paul Simon music video and me and Julio were down by the schoolyard. Julio was awesome! I left that morning with less money, but with more knowledge and not feeling totally whipped.

God showed me something at Tuffy's. God showed me the difference between a good church and a great church. My first stop wasn't a pleasurable experience. I'm not even going to say the name of the place, because I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. They must be a decent place or they would be out of business. However, my stop at Tuffy's showed me how the church ought to be. We ought to be welcoming and inviting. We should always offer coffee (this isn't scriptural, but it is classy). We need more Julios, people who are willing to walk with you in uncomfortable places and teach something to people about love. I paid for a service, but I didn't mind giving my money when I understood the necessity. If the church will be clear about their vision and how the money that people gives goes to fulfill that vision, people will cheerfully give all that they can afford to. When a church can do these thing, then lost people will be ready to hear about Jesus.

No, I didn't feel any tougher at Tuffy's (nice word play), but at least my weakness was addressed. I didn't leave any more manly, but I didn't leave feeling girly either, which is a different feeling for me after leaving a car garage.

Question:
Do you have a place of utter shame?