The first thing Larry ever asked me was whether I had a church. Actually, the first thing Larry ever asked me was when I could start working. He asked me that on the day I put in my application at Vintner's, and it was the first indication to me that the restaurant had trouble keeping wait staff. The other question, which I suppose we have now established as being the second question Larry ever asked me, was posed on the morning of my first shift.
Larry was a well-dressed, clean-cut, and soft-spoken man in his mid-thirties who was the day manager when I started wokring. He told clean jokes, didn't drink alcohol, and took his wife out on a hot date once a week, on which they go to whatever restaurant for which they had coupons.
Larry loved the Lord, and he loved to talk about the Lord. And that would have been okay, if not for the fact that the Lord was all he talked about. It would have been just as tiring if all he talked about was cars or the economy or romaine lettuce.
Maybe it was just frustrating to me because I never had anything to say back to Larry. Sometimes I agreed with him and sometimes not, but either way, I'd rather talk about something else. Aloof, detached, afraid, whatever you want to call it, I keep myself to myself.
So Larry made me uncomfortable, because I knew I was supposed to respond, but there was nothing to say. And I think my awkward silence gave Larry the impression that I didn't respond because I wasn't right with the Lord. He interpreted my silence as guilt, maybe. Naturally, that made him want to discuss the Lord with me even more.
Larry went to a Church of God behind the mall where he preached sometimes, meaning he got to talk about the Lord to a bunch of people at once. And I think this was the kind of church where people did not stay silent when someone got up and talked about the Lord. Maybe I should've shouted "Amen!" when Larry talked to me. Or maybe I should've just explained to him that I was a Methodist, and that sort of thing just wasn't in us.
Larry once said that working at the restaurant really put his beliefs to the test. After all, it was a restaurant and wine shop, and a lot of faiths aren't so big on the alcohol issue. He said, "What would Jesus do? Would he be in here recommending the Chateau Morrisette?" Though Larry did not himself drink, he did not condemn it. He even bought of wine once - one shaped like a fish so that he could pour out the wine and make a candle with the bottle for his wife.
Larry was a very contented kind of guy, his life might have been completely stress-free if not for Lynn, the wife of the owner of the restaurant where he and I both worked. She and Larry, they just didn't get along, and it really was because of the signs. Lynn posted these signs on the telephones saying "No one is to take reservations except for Joe, Lynn, or John." Larry took these signs as being personal attacks, maybe partially because John was the night manager and supposedly had the same authority as Larry did. He wondered why Lynn didn't just tell him, rather than insult his intelligence with these ridiculous signs. Every sign that went up, always written on green post-it notes, Larry brought down the next morning. One night after several days of this, Lynn called Larry at home to confront him on the sign issue. And the usually sedate Larry lost his temper.
Larry felt bad and apologized later, and there were no more such incidents. The signs stayed up. Larry seemed defeated. He no longer cared. He listlessly seated customers and then returned to the host stand to go back to staring off into space. He didn't even talk to me about the Lord much anymore.
Finally, one day Larry announced that he was putting in his two-week's notice. He had sold his house, and he and his wife were moving to Florida. Larry was joining the seminary. Larry was going to talk about the Lord for a living. He seemed happier than he had been for a while.
I liked Larry, even if he did make me uncomfortable. And even though he may not have known it, when Larry talked about the Lord, I listened to him. And sometimes I wonder if Jesus would recommend the Chateau Morrisette, or if maybe the Son of God is more of a Cakebread Cellars kind of guy.
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