Misplaced Indignation

     I looked carefully at the ticket the waiter handed me and shook my head. I had been a pizza cook at the Lahaina Pizza hut close to nine months and thought I had seen everything. But this was too much. I called the waiter over.

     “Look at this,” I told him. “These X’s here mean cancel that item. You said these people want no cheese on their pizza.”

     The waiter confirmed that was what he meant.  I tried to stay calm and moved closer to this new guy who seemed to know nothing and needed a little talking to from an experienced pizza man.

     “You can’t have a pizza without cheese,” I said. “Cheese is what a pizza is all about.”

     “That’s how they want it,” he explained. I looked at the ticket and then into the dining area at the table with a young couple, tourists most likely, who thought they could order a pizza without cheese. I didn’t know how to tell this poor naïve waiter that he had gone too far indulging them.

     “You can’t have a pizza without cheese…” I repeated.

     “Yes you can,” said the manager walking by.

     I was incredulous. How did this man get to be manager?

     “They can’t do this,” I protested. “It’s a veggie pizza. Without the cheese, all the vegetables will burn. You can’t have a pizza without cheese, you just can’t.”

     We made the pizza. Once it was in the oven, I called some other cooks over and pointed to the table and explained that those people had ordered a pizza without cheese.

     “Eeeewww,” they all said. I felt validated.

     In addition to that validation, I felt like a monstrous injustice had been committed and told all my friends and anyone who would listen for the next week about it.

     And today, 26 years later, the incredulity I feel now is how much indignation I felt back then. Really David? Let the people order what they want and just let it go. When that was happening, the Berlin wall still stood. Injustice of all kind was worldwide. I got my knickers in a knot about how I thought people ought to want their pizza.

     So I’m older now. There is nothing like a few years to soften someone up and give them a sense of perspective, right? Maybe not. How about having children? That might help someone realize what’s important in life. Two years overseas helps foster a healthy sense of perspective. Granted, it was in a developed country with clean water and impressive infrastructure. And if that didn’t calm me down and realize what is important, having a child diagnosed with cancer at three years old is something. Talking care of her for three and a half years, going through scans, surgeries and all sorts of trials did quite a lot to help me realize what was important and see the big picture.

     But did this last?

     A piece of furniture disappeared at work last week. It vanished without explanation and no-one knew where it had gone or who took it. People at work were a little disturbed. I was particularly upset. I had been one of the last one’s out of the building that night and had walked right by the shelf that had been noticed missing the next day. I took it personally. And even though I didn’t visibly bluster, I bottled up some intense feelings.

     Then the furniture piece was found in a locked closet. So now it’s back where it belongs. But the question of who, why, when and how might never be answered. And that still bugs me. When I updated my family that the shelf had been found, there was little joy or interest. I probably appeared emotional when I told about it. Jamie, who is almost 11 years old, asked me if I was going to blog about it. Prajna rolled her eyes at the thought of me venting my frustrations over such a petty issue.

     But I was intrigued. I thought about the indignation I felt over such a little thing. I thought I had gotten over that. I thought I had learned to pick my battles and not sweat the small stuff. Was it enough that I didn’t burst out in anger and keep my feelings to myself over such a little thing? I didn’t insult anyone’s taste in pizza this time. Did I deal with this in a healthy way?

     I don’t know. I do know this, if I found out who moved the furniture and locked it in a closet I would want to throw burned vegetables at them. I might not be over this. Most of all, I wish I knew why they did it. And it all comes down to this: I might never know.

     I might never know. But one day I’ll get to heaven where there will be no sorrow, pain or confusion. I will see my daughter again. Maybe in heaven there’s a library with all kinds of data someone can look up and it would have this incident listed. Or maybe I won’t care about it anymore. Maybe once I get to heaven there will be plenty of cheesy pizza.

    

           

Street Corner Perspective

I’m sitting in a Jack-in-the-Box Restaurant at the corner of Citrus and Redlands Boulevard.  I want to kill about an hour before I take a Cheeseburger to Harrison so I’m prepared to read the Vonnegut book I just started.  As I’m eating I’m listening to Paul Simon.  The first song, Kodachrome, talks about the past being clear and inviting.  I get out my notebook and write that down because I don’t have a blog topic yet.  The music continues and I glance out the window.  It’s about 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon.  Cars and pedestrians are steady.  A man walks by carrying a two gallon gas can in the direction of the Arco Station.  I write that down too and a few minutes later he walks back carrying the gas can as if it’s full.   

     I have been discontent for weeks.  I haven’t realized how sulky that has made me.   Of course everyone close to me has.  When I haven’t denied being discontent and depressed, I have chastised myself for feeling that way.  I have a wonderful family, home and job and no business feeling anything but joyful about it all.  I have tried to understand why I feel how I feel.  I asked myself: “What do I want?”  Yesterday I stared out a window and thought about what I wanted, and tried to imagine the same question about the people I saw.

     The driver of the new black Mustang GT looks glum about something.  I convince myself that I would never look that way behind the wheel in one of those while in the Jack-in-the-Box drive thru.  I wonder, what emptiness is in this guy’s life?

     If I had won the latest lottery of almost uku-billion dollars I think I might have been happy for a while.  I sat at my table with my empty Ultimate Cheeseburger wrapper and told myself that I have simple tastes and would still eat at Jack-in-the-Box if I won the lotto.  Aside from trying to buy a blimp or something I think I would do what most people would do if I fell into a huge pot of money.  I think we would all want to pay off debts, maybe take care of family member’s debts and get set for life with a nice place to live.  In other words, we would try to satisfy our wants and needs.  I would assume my life would be free from troubles if all my needs were met. 

     I had first put my headphones on because there was a loony looking guy in the restaurant.  Now I think I just stares at everyone in turn.  He’s been talking to himself and switching seats.  No table in the store seems to suit him.  He’s not easy to please it seems. 

     Outside I see a pregnant woman get out of her Cadillac and go into the AM/PM store.  What does she want in life?  She comes out a few minutes later with a big fountain drink, gets into her car and drives away.

     I won’t state the cliché about what money can’t buy. You can imagine it.  But how many intangible things are there that money can’t buy?  If we won the jackpot what would we want that could not be purchased? 

     A kid with long hair on a scooter meets up with another kid his age outside the gas station.  They have an excited talk.  The second kid makes happy, animated gestures.  They head back up the street in the direction the first kid came, still talking.  Nothing seems to be bothering them this afternoon.

     After looking out the window for about 45 minutes I feel a little better.  I have been taking notes and imagining a blog entry.  Sometimes I feel like everything I do is futile and I don’t’ want to ever get up early and blog or write again.  That is an irrational feeling and I know I’m wrong to feel that way.  Then I think of something to write about and the feeling goes away.  Maybe this is an intangible need of mine that money couldn’t ever buy: something to write about.

     A party of ten walks down the street.  There are two or three adults and the rest are kids.  Two are in strollers.  They go into the AM/PM and I only see a girl and adult woman outside a few minutes later.  They are leaning against the wall of the store eating. 

     Some people are speeding in the right lane passing other cars.  I wonder what they want.  Are they really in a hurry or just conditioned to drive fast?  Someone pulls out of the gas station lighting a cigarette.  Another person is at the red light talking on their cell-phone.  

     I looked out the window and thought about all the people I saw and tried to imagine what they all wanted.  The pregnant lady wanted a soda.  Did she also want peace of mind and less heartburn?  I don’t know.  Did the guy speeding like a manic want to get home to see a loved one?  Did he have to use the bathroom?  Was he even paying attention to his speed and thinking about something else?  Did he love the thrill of speed and was getting exactly what he wanted then?  

What was the one kid telling the other about that was so cool?

Some people have to wait a while for a break in traffic to turn left out of the gas station.  Cars stack up behind them.

     I bought a cheeseburger before I left and took it to Harrison so he could have something to eat before his percussion ensemble performance.  I met his immediate need for some supper and that felt good to me.  

I was grateful for the time spent looking out the window.  I think I gained a little insight, or at least a reminder that I’m not the only one who wants things, some of which no amount of money can buy.  That was a healthy dose of perspective.  If I don’t count the meal I bought, that experience cost me nothing.  

I don’t want to assume that this blog meets anyone’s needs but mine.  It’s never my goal to teach a lesson.  If I can share some perspective that I have picked up, then that’s good.