Eating Crow at Publix

Grease is the word, is the word, it’s got groove, its got meaning.

I don’t know about all that, but it certainly does have a place in my heart as one of my favorite movies.

When it came out, my parents took us to the drive-in to see it. . . a lot. They would set out a blanket in the grass and my sister, our friends, and I would sing and dance through the whole thing. It’s a warm memory. Knowing this, my daughter took me this year for my birthday to a movie theater that was showing classic movies. What a privilege to watch it with my own daughter in a room full of other fanatics!

In it, there’s this one scene that’s a brilliant indicator of a part of our human condition—the ability to spread news quickly. In the scene, Rizzo, while in the ladies bathroom at the drive-in, reveals to her friend Marty that she may be pregnant, but asks her to keep it quiet. With kids scrambling over cars to reach each others’ ears, by the time Rizzo has walked maybe ten yards, the word has reached her boyfriend and he confronts her.

It’s a great scene.

And I always think of it whenever the Publix chicken tender sub goes on sale.

The news spreads like wildfire.

People love their tenders. And the world loves Pub subs. So, it’s only natural that when they are combined in perfect harmony with cheese, veggies, and condiments, a small cosmic convergence erupts—at least in Central Florida. People tweet, Instagram, and Facebook the yumminess. If you’re me, you also text all the people because if you don’t you will receive some serious backlash for your selfishness. All of this attention leads to two things: a delicious sub and long lines.

And recently, while waiting in one of those long lines, I made a huge mistake.

I had noticed that the young lady behind the counter seemed particularly slow and unhappy. I guessed that she was wishing she had foreseen this was an unofficial Floridian holiday and had taken the day off. But alas, she was stuck there behind the glass, wishing we’d stop staring at her and just dissipate away. That’s what her face said, at least.

I was empathic to her plight. I used to sell tickets at Wet-n-Wild and have a real life understanding of long lines and grumpy people. And so, when I heard the man in front of me ordering two chicken tender subs, I leaned close to the counter and said,

“If it helps you go faster, I will be ordering a chicken tender sub too.”

Now, imagine a great ship of old being tossed in the throes of a tumultuous storm at sea. The barrels of water and supplies below rolling from one end of the ship and crash to the other.

That about describes the eye roll she made as she turned away from me at the counter.

At first, I didn’t understand her reaction to me wanting to help her in getting through this long line. I was the good guy! Then, I replayed the words that came out of my mouth and listened according to her response.

Oh.

She must’ve thought I was passive aggressively telling her she was slow.

Although I confess I thought she was going a little slow, I was honestly just trying to help her cut out a step. My intentions were pure. But if I had been been the one in the “fishbowl” having hangry people stare at me while checking their watches and breathing deeply, I think I would’ve assumed the same.

At this point though, her unjust judgement of my intentions sent my brain here:

Who is she to judge me when I was only trying to help?
Who trained her? They suck!
I bet she is like this at home and school. Her poor parents and teachers.
Should I let management know? She’s so unprofessional.

Then, the Holy Spirit piped into my miniature mind-meltdown.

I bet she is really having a bad day.
You know how your statement sounded to her.
Eli is always watching you.
What is the right thing to do?
I love her.

It was my turn to order.

I stepped up. Leaned in. Looked her in the eyes, ordered my sub, gave a heavy sigh and checked my watch. Jk. I took a deep breath and apologized. I told her that I didn’t mean how I had sounded. My only intent was to help. Then, I told her that it was important for me to model the right behavior for my son, especially on how to treat people. Her demeanor swiftly changed.

If you think that was easy for me, you are so far from being right. It was oddly hard. Almost everything in me felt justified in being angry and misunderstood—wanting to punish her by reporting her attitude.

I was the customer and I wasn’t trying to be rude, so I was right. And perhaps through the world’s goggles, I absolutely was. I could have spoken to management and she might have been reprimanded or taken down a notch. But what would that have accomplished in the Kingdom?

Instead, I was able to show my son that apologizing is necessary when you do something wrong—even when it was unintentional. He saw his mom consider others feelings as important; more important than her own. Perhaps that interaction even impacted that young lady somehow. Maybe, just maybe, she felt “seen.” I don’t know if I accomplished any of that. What was most certainly accomplished though was this: the tamping down of my own flesh by listening to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit; the voice that never calls out for vengeance, but instead humbly looks for opportunities for redemption.

It confirmed this belief:

So often we find ourselves in a pivotal moment where we are given a choice to respond or react to a person. It’s at these small junctures that we have to purposefully—even aggressively—push down our need to justify ourselves in a manner that is loud, demanding, and immediately gratifying. It’s a choice to not want the person you are engaging with to hurt because they hurt you. I don’t believe we always purpose in our heart to hurt others vengefully, but that’s exactly what we’re doing when we demand to be heard on our terms.

Here is a great tool that got passed down to me through a counselor. If you say something that you know was taken wrong, that was inflammatory, or was just meant to be spiteful, ask the other person if you can hit the rewind button. Then say what the spirit of healing wants you to say, not what your angry flesh wants to say.

The idea that we are “broken” is a common thread in sermons and worship songs in church. It’s a common thread in my blog posts simply because people have said and done things that have shattered our self-esteems and have made us question what true love really is, and I am empathetic to that. I know that hurt. And I’m sorry to say, the chances are that you know that hurt too. But often we are the ones who are doing the breaking.

My friend Dana often uses a quote when she is counseling.

“Hurt people hurt.”

My silence would have allowed the deli girl to go home and feel like she was “less than.”
My anger could have possibly gotten her fired.

But by eating crow I may have the opportunity to have a conversation with her in the future.
And I demonstrated humility to my son.

Crow tastes terrible, by the way, so I will learn to weigh my words more carefully.

Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.
Ephesians 4:29