From the perspective of a 20-something, self-identified seeker I hope that The Gray Area will be at times, confessional, observation forum, story board, joke shop, and, if I get good, advice column.
I have a confession. Actually it's not a confession. Just
an observation about life as I experience it. I'm addicted to my
phone. Not, I call people all the time. Not even, I always take every
call. Actually, I take less than half of the phone calls which come
my way (Sorry to anyone who gets my voicemail). It's really just the
obsessive need to have access. There's an old military expression,
"Hurry up and wait." And I think that's what I experience.
I spend a lot of time being careful not to miss an urgent call that
I'm not expecting. I get an almost debilitating anxiety when I'm not
in physical contact with my phone. I may not be leaning on my urinal
like "Mr.
Totally Connected," but, and I am ashamed to admit this,
I've checked my phone in church, and (gulp) on dates ("He who is
without sin..."). It's strange. When I think logically about the
worst thing that could happen if I didn't have my phone, the worst
thing I could think of would be an easy fix, and not likely to
happen. But somehow, nothing consoles me.
Earlier this summer, however, my phone vanished from. I
went through the stages of grief,
right out of the Psych 101 textbook. Not my finest moment. Denial- "I must have left it at the
church...OK...Maybe it's still in the car...well...Maybe the other
car...possibly...My room?...
Anger- "I can't believe I...How could I be so
stupid...Why did it have to rain TODAY!!!...Somebody probably ran it
over in the parking lot...
Bargining- Hoping that
my cousin had taken it or knew who had I offered my cousin candy and
money if she “found” my phone.
Depression- I, seriously,
don't even want to talk about that part. Not my finest hour.
Acceptance- If it's lost,
it's lost... I'll just buy a new one if that's what has to happen. A
lot of people don't even have cell phones...worse things have
happened to better people...
As I moved into acceptance. Wonder of
wonders...
After making a trip to summer camp with the youth of our church,
where it was dropped by whichever child took it. My beloved phone was
found by a different member of our youth group who, "Thought it
looked familiar," brought it home and showed it to his mom, who
recognized the "My Sister" entry in Contacts. Deduced that
she'd know whose it was. And it is now back in my grateful hands. My
very, very grateful hands.
I should have a punchy takeaway from
all this. And I think I kind of do. But, I'm going to let someone
else deliver it:
We’re students. We’re dancers. We’re actors. We’re writers. We’re slackers. We’re friends. We’re enemies. We’re lovers. We’re working parents. We’re kids. We’re alcoholics. We’re potheads. We’re Christians. We’re Muslims. We’re Atheists. We’re agnostics. We’re hard workers. We’re rarely surprised. We know you. We do anything you demand of us and more with a smile plastered on our face. We get shit on everyday time after time. We smoke like chimneys to calm the stress. We drink to forget. We take the blame for your mistakes and have five seconds to shake it off and engage the next client. We aren’t satisfied unless you are. We balance and pace. We stage and clean. We reap the rewards on the good days. We just hope to make it through the really bad days. We cry. We laugh. We can fix it. We got a good customer. We really blew it. We made a friend. We need to party. We need to work. We need the money. We are bored. We are totally swamped. We’re weeded. We’re out. We ARE right, but no one cares. We aim to please. We will see what we can do. We didn’t hear that. We don’t understand. We didn’t need that. We can’t believe it. We appreciate that, really. We take your order, and remember your tiny idiosyncrasies. We abide the no tips and the bad tips on the off chance of a great table. We don’t forget how rude you were. We’re easy to get along with…if you are. We love the drinkers and hate water. We don’t do this for free. We definitely don’t do this for fun. We love the irony of Diet Coke. We like cute kids. We could do without the bad ones. We laugh at ketchup-steak people, extra well done people, extra extra dressing people, and forget their to-go food people. We hate it when you can’t make up your mind but won’t let us leave. We have stuff to do…always. We want twenty percent. We accept fifteen plus. We bristle at ten, remembering anything less with a righteous fury. We told you the center would be red, you still wanted medium. We’ll take that back for you. We can’t read minds, say virgin daiquiri. We will get that. We’re cut, finally. We’re done cleaning. We’re checked out. We’re out. We’re spent.
We are servers who just want to make a lot of coin with a little stress and not a lot of mistakes but mostly… We just don’t give a shit.
