Often the biggest bores have enough social decency to ask you at least one personal question to feign interest. Their lack of a follow on question and twitching body language testify that they have unearthed a story slightly related to what you have been saying from within the abundant storehouse of their own ego. They shake with eager anticipation to share it with you almost as if they believe you need to be told.
Not so the bore I met this week.This one was shockingly worse.
I was visiting family when a gathering was taking place in their living room. A gathering of older men intent on various business. As their meeting concluded I and my two daughters were introduced to the various guests as they entered the kitchen. The subject of this blog, whom I shall refer to only as ‘T’ must have been caught off guard, and by off guard I mean he had sufficiently relaxed into himself that he was truly being himself and not the protected projection of himself he would use in his day job.
I sat at the table chatting with my own daughters as some common or garden competitive holiday story telling began with T and my other family members. My flight was better than your flight, I’ve been to the same place as you, I ‘see’ your week in place ‘x’ and raise you three weeks and a first class flight in ‘y’. You’ve seen all that before. I don’t get involved in the sparring. So far, so normal.
My family member then indicated to them, pointing over to me, that I (Vox) was going to Tennessee next month in an effort to bring us all into the conversation. Usually a bore would at least ask ‘What takes you to Tennessee?’ or some other feint. Not this one, ‘T’ immediately turned to me, an as yet unacknowledged individual in the room and declared, ‘I have an organisation I work with in Nashville, I’m over there quite regularly and will be over again in February’.
I couldn’t. Quite. Believe it.
Mild boredom with the competitive holiday sparring now turned to downright irritation. I smiled and acknowledged the awesome tale with more appreciation than it deserved and politely continued with my daughters.
Speaking of my daughters, the two of them, polite little girls of 8 and 5 were then introduced to ‘T’ by my family member. His response to these smiling little bundles of fun? A question to them? How are you girls? What are you getting for Christmas? Any inane acknowledgment of their existence?
No, the presence of kids is a perfect opportunity to discuss his own granddaughter. He ignored the introduction to them and instead stated, “I have a granddaughter, I have a photo here somewhere”, proceeding to scroll down an iPhone to find a picture of a child that wasn’t in the room and ignore the two children that were in front of him. He couldn’t find the photo and instead told us a hastily remembered tale of how she, a 9 year old, had used the letters in her first name to make up various sentences. Cute, fine. My 8 year old, unprompted and perhaps getting the social tone that this was about competing stories declared, “we do that in school, I did sentences with ‘Easter’ and ‘Spring’”. Touché girl.
A few minutes later ‘T’ was asked if he had seen the new iPhone 4S (which I have and my day job is running an apps development company). Making what I thought was safe conversation I stated that the voice recognition, Siri, was quite amazing. This was intended to be common ground / isn’t tech amazing kind of conversation. But no.
‘T’ declared that his son, who he was extraordinarily proud of for living in the US, having an important job and for buying them first class seats on the return flight from their last holiday, this son ‘said the EXACT OPPOSITE of that, the voice recognition on the Android was much better’. Again, I couldn’t quite believe it, a completely unnecessary attack on my attempt at general conversation by articulating again the superiority of his own son. Why the polemic? Don’t social occasions require more subtlety?
I could barely stand it at this stage, my neutrality had been tested and I entered the skirmish, saying, “No, that isn’t true, Siri is an incredible advance in natural voice recognition and beats all other systems hands down at the moment”. I couldn’t resist and needed to slap ‘T’ back into position just for his incredible rudeness.
In summary, so far, ‘T’ had managed to assert the superiority of his son, their job and opinions on technology; he had used our children as an excuse to discuss his own grandchild and had used the mention of Tennessee to mention the important organisations he works with there and travels there ‘all the time’. He ignored the humans present asked no questions of anyone in the room and blandly told ‘impressive’ tales of his own life and absent family members.
I think you get the picture.
But the most surprising thing about ‘T’ and this whole scenario was that ‘T’ is, wait for it, a Pastor.
Yes, someone who dedicates their life to looking after the cares and worries of countless souls, someone to turn to in times of illness, distress, moral and spiritual discomfort, someone to look to as an example of a serving heart. The meeting they had just finished was the board of a charitable mission to India, helping widows and orphans. Guess what would happen the next time someone mentions “India” in conversation to ‘T’?
Instead the person I met that day was intent on preening their plumage, vicariously boasting via the deeds of their family. This pastor simply arrived into my life and with swelling chest shouted,
“Look at me underlings, am I not GODLIKE? Do I not have progeny worthy of my DIVINITY? Do my seed not bear witness to me, their FOUNTAINHEAD? Do my charitable deeds not indicate my RIGHTEOUSNESS? Are you not IMPRESSED?”.
He obviously did not say that. Except, in effect, he did.
So, I said the following:
“I barely know you, but what I have learned in these brief few minutes is that you are a person wholly unsuitable for pastoral office. You show no real interest in people who are not part of your paid employment to serve and instead have used this opportunity to declare to us your own wonder and have caused unnecessary competitive urges in those present. I’m tired of you now, I suspect this charity is another vehicle to brag about. I bid you farewell, for as Jesus said, ‘you have your reward’. Your reward is a puffed up chest, haughty eyes and a golden goblet full of bilious drink that will never satisfy you.”
Except of course, I didn’t say that. But, I wished I had.
For your further Reading:
Matthew 6: Giving to the Needy, Hypocrites, Blowing your own Trumpet
With the greatest of thanks to G K Chesterton for long ago showing us it was ok to write short ‘essays’ like this:
The Fool, by G K Chesterton
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