I think I might be channeling my father.

[constance]

Aside from the fiendishly capitalist and corporate Barnes and Noble, every company I've worked for in the twenty-first century has featured obligatory moments of prayer in the workplace. Before meetings, before communal meals, before "extracurricular" functions, we all bow our heads for a prayer, silent or spoken. It's the price you pay for living in the Deep South; and man, it's a high price, at times, for someone who's agnostic at a stretch and only really not an atheist because she can't be unequivocal about what fucking salsa to buy*, much less about things as intangible as deities and human souls.

I try to be polite and respectful during these moments of prayer. I bow my head and keep quiet. I don't fidget or giggle or snort in derision. But sometimes it all gets to be too much, the way it did this morning, when our most fervent Monday-morning prayer leader begged God to "impose" his "will" upon "us all." I admit that a little snort did escape me. And suddenly I'd just had enough.

I mean. When I feel invisible spirits trying to impose their wills upon me, I'll reach for my powerful antipsychotics, thanks. I spent the rest of the prayer chafing at the idea that I should be cowed into pretending that I had any desire to be imposed upon. I held my head upright. My eyes were wide open. I felt enormously relieved.

If you're a Christian, more power to you. I still respect your right to believe in whatever God your faith leads you to. But I don't want a part in your worship any more, okay? Thanks for your attention in this matter.

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* (recommendations and/or recipes are welcome!)

Comments

[laurelwood.livejournal.com]

You know, if I hadn't worked for years and years at a place called "The Bread of Life", which featured a big, plaster Jesus holding lambs perched on top of the dairy cooler full of raw milk and wheatgrass, I'd have a tough time (way out West here) getting my head around the Obligatory Moment of Prayer in the Workplace. But having had my share of it, I can at least commiserate. I love the thought of you standing there with your eyes open. I wish I'd had the nerve to do that, too, although I did pitch a tantrum once over OMG NO PROSELYTIZING WHILE I'M EATING, PLZ.

Do you have Trader Joe's out there? Because their Salsa Especial is so darned good.

[tofty.livejournal.com]

OMG NO PROSELYTIZING WHILE I'M EATING, PLZ

This is why I'm so chary of doing things like eating in breakrooms with coworkers, but I will admit that my current coworkers are so far showing no such tendencies. The first time that happened at the lunch table, I'd have to go back to having a car picnic every day.

There aren't any Trader Joe's in Macon, I'm afraid, but there are several in Atlanta, and I've been wanting to make a food trip there, try TJ's and hit Your DeKalb Farmer's Market again -- and now I have an excuse to get up there!