Chicken Little?

My parents are gone for the second week in Florida. During this time, my family and I are discovering that our world pretty much revolves around my mom. We've noticed this before, but it's so much more obvious when she's not there. She's the sun to our orbit. She's the glue to our cohesiveness. She's the hooves to our glue... the pig to our gelatin. In less ridiculous terms, she's important. Without her, we see less of one another. My grandparents have no doctor accompaniment, my sister and I have minimal childcare, and all of our lives run significantly less smoothly.

My immediate, in-town family consists of two pairs of grandparents, my sister and brother-in-law and their children, and my mom's sister and her husband and children. When all together with my parents, we are a group of 23. We get together on a fairly regular basis - about once a month at least for the monthly birthday party. We also see one another at church.

My sister and I decided this week to have a family get-together before my son and I headed to California for a week. We asked the rest of the family, and they were "in". My grandma (mom's mom) said she would be the hostess. We figured potluck style was good, and that we would each bring something. We often go with a main meat dish of chicken at such a gathering. I volunteered to bring the chicken.

My grandparents are getting to an age where they are "set in their ways" about a few things. Walmart chicken is the best is apparently one of these ways. I am what you might call a chicken rookie. I like chicken. I eat chicken. I cook chicken. (Although I did have to YouTube how to cut up a fresh chicken a few months back.) I very rarely order chicken. I didn't know that it could be a necessity to order it in advance of my immediate desire/need for it. If I drive through KFC, I holler into this little, round speaker - telling them how many pieces of chicken I want, what color meat, and with what kind of breading (if any), and they say, "It'll be $.... at the window. I drive up. I give them money. They give me chicken. Everyone is happy.

My grandma told me I should get the chicken at Walmart. I said, "Okay." About 45 minutes before the gathering, I called to tell my grandma I was on my way over. I asked, "Should I order the chicken now?" She said, panic in her voice, "You should have ordered it yesterday." Uh-oh, chicken rookie mistake #1. "Can I just go ahead and call them now, do you think?" I asked, which was met with a disappointed, "They're probably out. It's too late now." Hmm?? Too late? For chicken? It was 4:30 in the afternoon. Surely this was not too late for chicken.

I asked her to give me the phone number as I didn't have it in my phone. She gave me the number for Walmart that was listed in the phone book. As I called the number, I was met with, "Automotive Department". "You couldn't by chance help me get some chicken?" (Not realizing that by the time Wal-Mart was done with me, I might as well have gone back to Automotive and asked for their help running one over.) "Ah, um... they have the wrong number listed in the phone book." Ya think? "Oh, you probably get this all the time, huh?" "Yep, you want to call the main store number at ___." Huh? Apparently Walmart can't afford a calling system that transfers calls from one department, across the store to another department. I guess the small fortune I spend at Wal-Mart each year is not accompanied by phone transfer privileges. Memorize the number and call back... which I did while driving. When I received the bakery, I gladly got a very friendly lady who transferred me (possible, as I suspected) to the Deli to a less friendly gentleman.

"Can I get about 30 pieces of chicken in about 45 minutes?" After a confused stutter, he put me on hold for an even less friendly lady.

"I got 200 pieces coming out at 6:00," she said.

"Okay, is it possible for me to get 30 pieces?" I replied.

"No."

"Mmm...kay..." (pause)

"There's only 16 under the glass. So no."

"So I should wait until 6:00 then?"

"No. I only have 200 coming out then. So no."

Not speaking Walmart speak is apparently working against me at this point, because I don't understand why the 200 pieces coming out at 6:00 is not up for grabs. No thanks to this unfriendly associate. I fought the temptation to reply, "Well, I'll bet there are 30 pieces in the meat department right now. Transfer me to them, and I'll have them bring it over to you, and you can toss it in the fryer for me." I can't help but think that had she initially responded, "Well, I had a big order for 200 pieces come in, and I just can't accommodate your needs tonight. I apologize for any inconvenience," or something along those lines, I would have felt more warm and fuzzy inside - not to mention had a MUCH shorter conversation with less confusion. As it was, I said, "Okay, thanks anyway," and hung up.

Grandma was right - I had messed up. If mom had been here, this never would have happened. And everyone would have their Wal-Mart chicken.

However, I found County Market's number, and I asked them, "Could I possibly get about 25-30 pieces of chicken in (by this time) about 30 minutes." She said, "It only takes about 15 minutes in the fryer. What time is it now?" (I guess clocks near where we're taking orders is also a limited luxury.) I said, 5:05. She said, "Sure, we can do it by 5:30." From this point on, everything went fine, and we had a nice chicken dinner - in which nobody complained for lack of Wal-Mart's dry, limited engagement, poor customer service chicken. There was even a ziploc bag of 5 pieces left over that my grandma forced on me as I was leaving. They might have even seemed to have an iridescent glow about them - almost like a chicken miracle.

Now, this isn't a Wal-Mart bashing blog. I am positive that poor customer service is not limited to Wal-Mart by any means. (Although I think they can get away with it better than just about any other retailer.) However, I began to feel a little like the sky was falling when I was unable to locate a suitable main course for our dinner without mom. On the bright side, we figured out once again that we can do things without mom if we have to, and I'm getting lessons on being a little glue-like myself. Next time I will be able to respond with confidence, "Nobody panic. I'll take care of the chicken."

Communication Error

I speak English. Yes, most of the people I know speak mostly English, but sometimes even my husband and I speak a different language. I've only recently become fairly certain of one thing. I self-disclose much more than my husband does. This means he tells me about himself and his feelings way less often than I tell him about myself and my feelings. However, I figure this balances out in the long run, and I'll tell you how. I listen intently to his small, maybe 5% self-disclosure rate... then I add my own assumptions, fill in a lot of blanks, and come up with approximately (and this is a rough estimate) 35% Mark knowledge. He listens to about 50% of my self-disclosure, and forgets at least 15% of that... leaving him about 35% Marcie knowledge - even Steven. I used to think that would be so dissatisfying. You remember? Teenage dreams of a deep love - reading one another's thoughts, etc. Blech... now I'm glad I can't read other people's thoughts. I'll give you an example of why I feel this way.

Usually when someone says something that just "comes out", it isn't very pleasant. However, it was in there somewhere. I remember when my husband and I were looking at houses together (which was pure realtor torture, by the way). We were in this lovely two-story home and looking at a remodeled bathroom. There was this beautiful sink with a brand new faucet and fancy hot/cold handles. The handles were shaped in a lovely spiral/corkscrew design or so I thought until I said, "Wow, honey. Look at the faucet handles! Aren't they neat?" To which my husband, who grew up on a hog farm, blurted out to my initial shock, "Looks like a boar's _____." (<--insert part of male anatomy here). Now we hadn't even been married a year at this point, and I am still getting pig lessons... this home viewing had apparently turned into a crash course in boar anatomy for me and the realtor. He is not one to make apologies... under nearly any circumstances, and he didn't then, unless, "Well, it does," counts as an apology. But I looked around to see if the realtor was within earshot in case I needed to crawl out to the car and begin the search for a new realtor. Not to mention that the house we were viewing had become officially tainted from the bathroom out. I would never have been able to use that bathroom sink without serious qualms.

The point is, most times if we blurt something out, it's the truest indicator of what's really inside. Luke 6:44-46 says, "⁴⁴Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers. ⁴⁵The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks." Honesty is the best policy, but sometimes how something is said is more important than what is being said. Ephesians 4:15 uses the phrase, "speaking the truth in love". It gives priority - not only to speaking the truth - but to saying it in a loving way. Truth is... what scripture says it is. Speaking my feelings is not truth. My feelings may seem true to me, but they are totally subjective.

Now there are those with whom I have the freedom to share my feelings, because they have proven that they are trustworthy with my vulnerability. However, they also have the freedom to wound me if necessary. Proverbs 27:5-6 says, "⁵ Better is open rebuke than hidden love. ⁶ Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." Those with whom I share my heart are those I know will point me in the right direction - toward the One my soul loves. I have come to a point where I welcome the wounds of my friends. I want to hear when they see I am being prideful or when they think I am wrong about something. I have chosen my friends, yes, but not because they'll fill my ears with honey - but because they'll pour in a little vinegar when necessary. However, they don't do it because they think I am wrong, but rather that they know the Lord and can see that my ways are contrary to His ways.

I guess maybe you have to earn the right to be honest with someone. Blurting is never a good idea, I've learned. It's hard to see what the end result will be, but I'm not always good at slowing down. I'm impatient, and my mind never stops thinking of words. A verse that I'm convinced the Lord keeps forefront in my mind is Proverbs 10:19, "¹⁹ When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise." He's still working on the fewer words thing in me.

I went to a communication workshop awhile back. The premise is that full disclosure involves a sense (one of the five), thought, a feeling, a need or desire, and an action. An example of full communication would be, "I smelled fire. I thought that the house might be on fire, and I was fearful for my family. I needed to know they'd be okay, so I shouted fire and tried to evacuate the house." The person receiving the communication is supposed to repeat back what was said... giving the sender an opportunity to change anything necessary, therefore owning his own message. Then it goes back and forth. I have to be honest. When I've used this form of communication, although sometimes cumbersome, it has always, without exception, brought almost immediate end to disputes or misunderstandings.

I have found that, as a people-pleaser, I tend to have fewer words for people with whom I am completely comfortable. It's an odd thing, when I'm with someone who I feel dislikes or doesn't accept me on some level, my words multiply exponentially, and I end up babbling foolishly. When I am at ease... I can let conversation flow more naturally. I know that more words won't make me more acceptable, and, in fact, will almost surely have the opposite effect, and the little guy on the wheel inside my head is saying, "Shut up, shut up, shut up..." but my gums just keep flappin'.

Ah, well... we all have our issues. If only verbal excess was my worst vice... My husband tends to like the saying, "Better to remain silent and have people wonder if you're a fool than to speak and remove all doubt." I like that too... but I think it's too late for me. :)