I chose this topic for my little series of comedic quips because it involves what everyone can identify with - work. Yes, this article has everything to do with work.
Not that I am complaining about what I do or where I work, it's just that the people there can sometimes be a little off. Alright, really off. Case in point: God on Earth.
So I walk into work with a spring in my step and glint in my eye, well, actually more like a hunch in my back and an eye squint from the mid morning sun. Coffee in one hand and barely used workout bag in the other.
Ahh, but little do I know that today would be different. Not the usual Monday morning grind, but something extraordinary. Yes, today is the day I met God on Earth with the business cards to prove it.
The main lobby of the office is set up with three secretaries in a neat row facing the front door. And the middle secretary, Marie, couldn't wait to see me.
"Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Have you gone to see Charles yet?" Charles, by the way, is an "alternative" medicine guru who likes to heal by mystically ingesting the toxins from your body. Marie has been seeing him for a year. Last week I had bad experience with said guru which is a hysterical story in of itself, but I digress.
"Yes, Marie. And it seems that he has a friend who, um, how do I say this…um…is god?" Which actually wasn't the only reason why my first appointment with Charles was my last, but it was a pretty close second.
"Oh yes Ah-Honolulu. Wonderful man, very spiritual. He has enlightened me and now I am one of his devotees. Here, have his business card and I will put you on the e-mail list."
Ok, wait a minute. Is this a real conversation? Am I really here? This is work, right? We work here.
"You need his help Liz." She continues, "I think you feel no control over your life, and if you don't mind me mentioning, you are always depressed at work."
Yep, that's it! My low salary and constant barrage from a group of menopausal women is definitely not the cause of my depression. Noooo. It's because I don't have god's daily email.
She hands me his card, god looks like an ex-hippy with a multicolored headband or maybe it's a scarf, I am not up to date on god-wear these days. Marie then proceeds to tell me the story of how he became god. Of his psychedelic drug past trying to find meaning in his life.
Then puff. One really great trip -and he realizes god in himself. This, over a few years, develops into Ah-Honolulu's knowing that he is god on earth and moves to Tahiti.
Ok, Ok, maybe I'm knocking the man. Maybe I am being too critical. Even I can admit this seems like a pretty good gig. Writing daily e-mails, perhaps the once a month lecture on Love, Life and Sex. And he has devotees!! How great it that.
Living in Tahiti with man servants practically sucking the money out of the prayerful hands of the underachieved like some great big vacuum. The new Dyson to be exact because (to be read in an English accent) they never lose suction, ever.
"Dude, I so want to be god on earth too." Woops. In my excitement I kinda said that one out loud.
"Now Elizabeth, this man has worked hard to get where his is today. He has spent many lifetimes seeking enlightenment from God and he was chosen to take god within himself and spread this enlightenment to all of us on earth."
"How do you know that won't happen to me? I could wear my hair all funny. I'm charismatic, people will follow me. I'm a chic too! People are all used to god being guys. I'll have an in. It'll be great."
And noticing her look I add "Yes, this will be different from the time I decided I could be Pope." At which point I start signing "Lucky me, lucky me, I'm going to live in Luxury" and begin a little jig, nothing too big since I am still at work and must keep an air of professionalism.
Marie, with tears in her eyes from the punch she took on her new god friend, promptly ends the conversation with an "I would never do this to you" type of statement. Which is true, she wouldn't.
But come on now! It's god on earth with business cards. I can't let that go. I mean really, that's like tempting a rabid dog with kibbles 'n bits with your sleeves rolled up.
Oh poor Ah-Honolulu. I did eventually apologize to Marie. I hope I am not offending any alternative religion. But even the devout must agree that this was just too funny.
Actually, this is a pretty normal day in my life. Really. I seem to pick up on the oddities of people, must be my counseling background.
But that is why I am writing these down. I can't be the only one, the only one normal person out there. Ok, so the little jig wasn't all that normal.
These stories just seem too weird to keep to myself. Oh, that reminds me of another story!
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