Bad Math

After moving north a few months ago, ex-colleague M is back in town. I had actually heard from another colleague yesterday about her visit and a possible lunch date opening to all. Sure enough, the invite was announced during our staff meeting. Prior to the meeting, the boss unexpectedly visited my cubical, inquiring me of the lunch: “You are NOT coming?” Instantly a mixture of self-defense and guilt surfed through my body while I cautiously replied no, tagging with “is that OK”. He explained he had assumed I wouldn’t be coming thus was assigning me to be the emergency backup. Strangely, another mixture of emotion rushed through me, partly relief from his not taking offense and partly indignation from their being so openly presumptuous. Regardless, I was more pleased than annoyed.

Friday lunching-out is customarily though not obligatorily observed by some of us here after a long week of brown bag sandwiches. I faithfully remain untouchable by all invites, which have never been many, if not few. The truth is, it hasn’t taken more than 2 or 3 “NO”s to stop them from coming. I neither find it ill nor fault my “considerate” coworkers. To me, eating with a group of colleagues at a table is far more challenging than working on some troublesome tickets. There is the unknown factor of whom you might sit with, what you should talk about, but mostly how to look interested and engaged when you are totally NOT.

So gladly I took the DOA, focusing on the joy of being left alone to hold the fortress, even though it was but a couple of hours of sheer solitude. I left the meeting looking like a cat with a mouse on her mouth, grinning from ear to ear and full of herself – until I stepped back to my cubicle and realized that I would not be alone. B and R, 2 of my cube-mates, would NOT be going to the lunch either. They don’t ever, just like me.

My heart sank and my joy fled. I sat deflated, frowning and grumbling. As self-absorbing as I am, I am not without conscience. While I fumed with my unfortunate loss, I had to ask myself: if one scrooge equals to FUN, why does one scrooge plus 2 NOT?

Interestingly, R and B are of 2 totally different dispositions and in fact at odds with each other though not explicitly. B is the golden boy and Mr. Perfect, while R is the black sheep, the wild child out of control. At first meeting, I too was drawn to the perfect son. He prays long prayer before his lunch, reads his Bible religiously everyday and works/talks like a prim and proper IT professional. R, on the other hand, is loud, volcanic and borderline obnoxious. Both claimed to be professed Christians and yet they couldn’t be any farther from each other. It didn’t take me long, though, before I switched camp.

I have suspected if my defection had something to do with the fact that R sadly reminds me of myself, a child forever trapped within that is impossible to grow up. Flawed and even damaged, he is incapable to hide or pretend. However, his Christian charity does submerge on and off though not without grunting and cussing. All the good and bad are out open glaring at the world as it condemns him. In comparison, B’s even temperament, long southern drools and seemingly perfect disposition are strikingly superior and yet short-lived (to me) once I detect all Christian’s heart and acts stop at his straight A appearance.

Both, just like me, have been known as the lunch rejects for different reasons: one refuses to mingle while the other is just cheap. For someone who is the cheapest of all, it seems unjust to judge another for that. But I am not speaking of lunch alone. In almost 3 years of stay here, I have not seen him lending a giving hand in work or life. His appearance – helpful and gentle - is all without any actions to give. Charity without action is no charity at all. And even actions, without heart, are just acting like. There are plenty of scrooges here that are self-serving and cheap, but at least they don’t pretend to be something else. . Then again, we will never escape the guilty charge for being wayward and irresponsible as long as we wear the brand-mark of Jesus. As I look at his opponent, R, I have to ask the inevitable, convicting questions: for a child of God, which is worse – the one that is imperfect in deeds or the one that is perfect in name alone? When the day comes to face my Lord, will I be able to explain myself away in either charge?

My 2-hour alone-time turned out to be nothing alone as 3 of us shared the “empty” nest in absolute silence. It was just like any of the lunch hour – the same cubicle, same occupants and same silence and yet it felt more crowded and stifling than usual. I had no one to blame but myself when all went wrong that Friday: bad recess, bad mood and bad math. Let it be a precious lesson for all mankind that false expectation can be a grave peril - it could ruin your fun.