They Are Everywhere

I’m at work. I’ve worked about 9 hours thus far, and a co-worker who seems pretty on-the-level comes in to the store when he’s not scheduled to patronize it, and nothing else. To me this raises a red flag. You have to have a weird disposition to voluntarily visit a place that continually robs you of the just product of your labor, except to steal or argue.

He sits down, starts eating, and I make the fateful decision to visit the sweet-tea urn and drink as much as I can to attempt to get back the compensation they won’t give me in money. He’s reading a book, which in my mind means he’s feeling introverted. Yet he pipes up after my 4th or 5th dixie cup of sweet tea and says “this is a great book”. I look at the cover and can tell its something one can buy next to batteries at the grocery store. He asks me if I’ve heard of the author. I haven’t, and before any other conversation is had I ask him if he’s read catch-22. This is a litmus test.

Here’s how I grade people: A) voluntarily read catch-22, B) means to read it soon, knows quite a bit about it C), knows about it, plans to read it at some point, D) knows about it, F) Doesn’t know about it. This man receives an emphatic failing grade when he replies “no, what is it?”. I tell him it’s my favorite book, and that it is amusing and tragic at the same time. He immediately pipes up with a vast exaggeration of whatever he is reading, saying there are “cliffhangers every paragraph”. I say “yeah”, figuring at least hes literate, and wishing to end the encounter.

Then he explains that this particular writer wrote from biblical predictions, and that his books thus far have all predicted political events before the event accurately. I try hard not to smirk, but then he asks “are you a christian”. I say “no” as if to add “what do I look like, a jive sucka?” and he replies “yeah, I used to be more skeptical too. It’s not like it’s just this book that got me to be christian, but I understand where you’re coming from”. This motherfucker has no idea where I’m coming from, and that is a self-evident fact. Trying to veer the conversation on to the shoulder, I say “It’s not about Christianity, I’m just skeptical of anyone who thinks they can predict the future”.

With my intention, the topics moved into useless fluff so I wouldn’t inspire some kind of daily, obnoxious conversation about how this man came to religion and I haven’t. He played a part I’ve seen lots of men do when they find out I’m not religious, which is to be a “cool guy” who is “cool with that”. More condescending is that they “were like [me]”, meaning that it’s a foregone conclusion that I will someday be like them.

I had previously learned that many people I work with are explicitly atheist or simply not-religious and not-interested, the day-old bagel version of atheism. This was a reality check that Christians lurk in sandwich shops, between me and my immediate goals, appearing unassuming. If my bed wasn’t a futon mattress on the floor, I’d check under my bed for them.