Yesterday was the 50th Anniversary of the Methodist Theological School in Ohio, and I worked in the dining hall. Starting at 8:30 in the morning and ending at 2:30 I helped set tables, prepare food and place settings, served during the lunch, and cleaned up after everybody left. I loved the people that I worked with, and the environment was very comfortable. It was nice to be doing work for a change. One part of the day, however, was quite a learning experience. Understand while I write this, that I am not complaining, I am just observing.
The lunch that we served was an alumni luncheon with several awards being given. In attendance were alumni from the last fifty years of MTSO's history, several faculty, and a few students. In normal circumstances, if I had been in attendance, I would have sat at a table with several alumni. They might have asked me what the school was like now, told me about their experiences here and since they graduated, and offered advice. In short, the simple fact that I was a student would make me a point of interest to many people.
Instead, the instant I put on the apron, I became invisible. A piece of furniture. Second class. People's eyes just slid over me and over the other servers. We were the staff, the help. With the exception of the people asking me for coffee or what the meat was, only four people talked to me like a human being. First, our Dean of Academic affairs, Randy Litchfield, stopped while walking over to greet alumni and asked me how I was doing. Second, our President, Jay Rundell, stopped and said "Hi Melissa! How are you doing? I am so glad you are doing this!" (and he was completely sincere). Third, an older black woman (my guess is she graduated 30 or 40 years ago) looked up at me from her table and made eye contact. She then asked me how I was. Finally, an older black man asked me if I was a student and wanted to know about the professors who are still here. I mention their race and age since given the combination of older and black, they have probably dealt with people looking down on them for no good reason, so I found it interesting that they were the ones to notice me. I also had one of my current professors look at me with a look that made me feel inferior. When people asked me for something, some made eye contact, but most looked at my chin or forehead.
I understand that people may not have wanted to interrupt me while working, but at the same time, the simple eye contact and treating me like a human being were nice. Later in the day, I ate at the celebration dinner, and alumni did exactly what I supposed they would. They wanted to hear about me and my experiences here. They wanted to tell me their experiences and offer advice.
I plan to work at the dining hall again for special events for several reasons. First, I loved the work environment. Lola, the woman in charge, is absolutely wonderful. Second, the pay was very good. Third, and probably one of the most important, it was a learning experience. It is a humbling experience, serving others when they do not appreciate me as a person. It is a view into reality. I think every pastor should have this experience as a reminder of what it means to serve, even when people don't understand.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
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