Some call me The Human Garbage Disposal.
Unfortunately, I thought that was a compliment…
“You gonna finish that?”
Rosie stared at me blankly, pulled what little remained of her sandwich out of her open mouth, and stated flatly, “Probably not. Would you like my leftovers?”
“Sure! I let nothing go to waste–and that cranberry turkey sandwich was really what I should have ordered in the first place. You’re the best, Rosie!”
I proceeded to pick up that juicy morsel and devour it in a single gulp. Man, did she sure know how to order the most delicious dishes!
You know, in hindsight, though, I would have been much better served had I picked up on her dry sarcasm instead.
To the objective observer it would have been more than clear that she was not done savoring her sandwich–on account of it already being inserted halfway into her oral cavity and all. At that point y’all gotta know she’s pretty much committed to the act of mastication, and wasn’t exactly hemming and hawing any more about whether she was going to polish it off or not.
Yet somehow, all that was obvious in that moment escaped my grasp, and I sat there and enjoyed the final moments of her meal in blissful oblivion.
Maybe my social faux-pas wouldn’t have been so bad had I not been a grown-ass college student. At the time, I had a summer job toiling away my days with the maintenance crew at a resort in Colorado.1Snow Mountain Ranch in Winter Park, for future reference. Joining me there were a bunch of other Jesus-loving college students all taking part in a larger work-ministry project,2If you need more context, I was heavily involved in the Navigators Christian campus ministry throughout college, for what it’s worth. and we would get together twice a week and have ourselves little church-like meetings. Somehow I fell bass-ackwards into the role of bassist in the band that led the Jesus-loving music for these meetings.
Now, near the end of that summer, the handful of us that comprised the Band–Rosie included–had snuck into town to enjoy one last meal together and reflect on all the memories we had made. And in the midst of this sentimental and solemn moment, there I was, passive-aggressively stealing my bandmate’s food like a complete jackass.
Fortunately, this incident didn’t completely pass without at least one kind soul pointing out the error of my ways.
Chip, the band leader, had come to our celebratory lunch with envelopes containing personal letters for each of us, thanking us for our time and efforts over the last 3 months. Once we were all finished up eating and had a few minutes to chat amongst ourselves, he passed them out to us one by one.
I opened mine and as I read through one thoughtful and touching reflection after another, I found myself trying to not get all misty-eyed. And then, I noticed a last-minute addendum scribbled in the margin at the bottom:
“Seriously, though, you need to let people finish their dang meals in peace. I love you, man, but…what the hell is wrong with you?!?
In Christ, Chip”
Clearly, this was a very important life lesson that he felt needed to be passed on to me with an utmost sense of urgency…
Turns out, his wisdom has proven quite prescient. You wouldn’t believe how many times over the last 13 years the Boss Lady has given me the exact same advice. I’m embarrassed to say that all too often I’m still that same oblivious knucklehead that succulently harassed3It’s a sexual harassment pun…though on second thought, I’m not so sure it’s a funny as I thought it would be… Rosie 20 years ago.
On occasion, though, there are glimpses of hope. One time I had finished my pizza before the Boss Lady had, and caught myself gazing lustily at the half-piece left on her plate.
Realizing that it was already enough to ruin the remaining pleasuring of her palate, I rued quietly to myself, “I wish I could take back that look…”
Self-awareness takes time. But I’m getting there.
Ironically, though, it has been becoming a parent that has really driven the lesson home for me. Sure, it’s a bit self-serving for me to care about this now, but it’s for their own good that I constantly press this hallowed fatherly advice upon my insatiable little goblins:
Always remember: “The Last Bite Is Sacred.”
the #1 Rule of Social Eating
Seriously, though, somebody should have beat my ass in Christ’s name4This is a random place to bring this up, but, Fun Facts: Chip lived next door to me in the employee dorms where we were staying that summer. Then I later found out that Chip and Rosie ended up dating and getting married a year or two later. So in sense, I was lusting after my neighbor’s future wife’s final bit of food. True story. long ago for trying to take their precious final crumbs from them…
Content created on: 2/3 December 2020 (Wed/Thurs)
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