Part 1
These are words that recur a lot these days. They can be heard anywhere from a bar to a friend’s impromptu dinner party. Most often they bring forth a stream of questions from the unsuspecting listener. “Oh, that sounds exciting! What do you do? Is it nice? I’ll bet it’s quiet. How many people are in your office? Does the priest come by often? Is he your boss? How is he? I think priests look so cool in their robes and stuff. Does he wear his uniform, you know, the black clothes and the little collar thingy? Do you get to count the money? Do you have to work on Sunday too? I’ll bet it’s a fun place to work. How’s the pay? Do they have benefits like other places do?
These are just some of the reactions that I have encountered along the way during the fifty-plus years of my association with the Catholic Church.
The Church is an employer. The religious people of the Church are the Executives, the Managers, the Supervisors and the Professionals of the Organization as employer. As such, the Church is required to comply with the labor laws of the locale in which it operates. The Church in California must operate as a California Employer in harmony with the Federal Labor Laws of the United States of America, not a French Employer, nor a Canadian one, nor a Mexican one and not even a Massachusetts one or an Arizona one. Believe it or not, this reality can cause conflict in the collective conscience of the Church. The Church is not accustomed to be subordinate to secular authority. The Church is not totally comfortable in its role as employer because in most secular societies today, employers are regulated first, foremost and last, by the government.
It is therefore possible that a person with twenty years of experience as an accountant (let’s say, controller) in a non-profit, but non-Catholic Church enterprise who comes to work for the Catholic Church will discover several surprising behaviors in the new work environment.
First, there is the fact that “productivity” and the discipline required to achieve it is not a supremely precious value in the Church. After all, God has all eternity to get what He wants, right? Be ready for the surprise of your life when you realize that you are the very first “real” controller who has ever been hired in the parish where you are now working.
The one person who was in charge of the financial aspect of the parish for the past twenty years is as happy as a ten year old in the dentist chair when you ask for even the slightest piece of documented information. Just because you are a Harvard graduate with a CPA doesn’t give you the right to intrude in “her” files. Trust me, you don’t want to see her files. Start your own. Find a reliable and affordable software package, buy it, or get the Pastor to buy it, or learn how to use the one from the diocese that the 20 year wonder couldn’t decipher, and start from scratch. You’ll keep your blood pressure down if you do it that way.
It won’t take long before you will want to see the payroll records of the individual across the hall who, it is said, reports to you. She seems to miss an inordinately large amount of work. You’ll perhaps find that those aren’t kept in the parish. They are religiously sent to the diocesan office for review and processing. If you do get them in a couple of months and you do find out the nasty truth about the rate of absence of your “favorite” employee, I triple dare you to terminate this gem, or try to get the slouch terminated. You see, pastors are extremely reluctant to discharge a parishioner. Not just because they are humane to a fault (which they are) but also because they fear the vicious contumely that will arise in the community. This wave of vitriol usually finds its way back to the Bishop, back down through the Pastor and on to your stone cold outlook on life. So, either you look for work-arounds, suffer with incompetence or leave.
The employees of the Church are not the only ones who are in conscientious conflict. The Managers (Pastors) and Executives (Bishops) are too. The vocation of these people is a call to spread God’s Word and Love throughout the world. They are called to do it in an organization that is built on obedience, not compliance. One is a virtue the other is cold alignment. In a religious community, obedience trumps alignment all the time. In a religious community such as the Catholic Church, alignment with the government is not, therefore, as important as serving the needs of the Church.
So the Pastor for whom you may think you are working, considers you as a gift from the Bishop who gave him the permission to hire a true Manager/Professional even though the funds of the parish would take a hit. The Pastor and the Bishop may or may not be grateful that you took a $25,000 cut in salary which represents your boat and your nets left on the seashore to follow The Man. The Pastor perhaps had this plan on his mind for ten years but now that he is
blessed with the first part of the answer to his dreams he finds that he doesn’t have the s to permit you to bring the second half of his dreams to reality. So, just who is your employer? The Pastor or the Bishop? Even though your paycheck comes from the Bishop and your day to day relationship is with the Pastor, you’ll probably never know who your boss really is.
Thinking person that you are, you’re asking yourself, “If I don’t know who my employer really is, how do I gain ground toward the $25k that I left on the table?” That is an unanswerable question. You can’t work any harder than you’re going to have to work to construct accounting systems compliant with Sarbanes-Oxley and the rest of the regulatory legislation; you’ll have an uphill battle wondering what it’s going to take, short of cancer, to be disengaged from the 20 year veteran across from you on the other desk to say nothing of the individual who thinks that “It’s not all about work, you know?” and continues to work only 60% of the full time job agreement that she took on 10 years ago.
In conclusion to part one, I counsel you, Controller of mine, that you are blessed from above that you work in a closed office, far from the ravenous appetites of the Communion of Saints. Employment in that environment follows in part 2. Considering that blessing, you could decide that as Peter, James, John, Phillip, Andrew and the rest, you will follow Jesus and forget about ever going back to reclaim your boat and your nets. Anyway, pastors have 6 year terms, so
before you know it you can perhaps take your chances and try for the golden ring and apply for the controller’s job in the Diocesan Office. If that fails, and you believe in Providence and know that God will take care of you, you can stay and bask in the glory of your creatively self-accommodating work-arounds and be satisfied with the friends and relatives that you have outside of “work”.
If you decide that God is calling you somewhere else, either back to community development or Catholic Charities or maybe even to Honda America, leave quietly and in peace. Remember, the Church and God have all eternity to look forward to and we, their sons and daughters have the choice of many roads that can be taken to reach the Pearly Gates.
See you in part 2
Saturday, February 17, 2007
THE PRETTY LADY AT ARCO
When's the last time you were the object of a random act of kindness?
Wife goes to the snack shop for a couple of hot dogs and drinks and she's carrying my only cash, one well used, totally wrinkled picture of Andrew Jackson. On the island outside I swipe one, "Denied". Swipe two, "Denied".
Did you get a chance to thank the person?
If you did, you're lucky. There's nothing worse than getting petted by the wings of an angel and not being able to express your gratitude for the great feeling that it gives.Last night, 2/2/2007 at about 9:05 PM I stopped at the ARCO station on Day Street before jumping on to the 60 WEST heading for LAX. I have a debit card with +$600 and a credit card with Fort Knox on it.
Wife goes to the snack shop for a couple of hot dogs and drinks and she's carrying my only cash, one well used, totally wrinkled picture of Andrew Jackson. On the island outside I swipe one, "Denied". Swipe two, "Denied".
I run into the store and luckily I'm the only one in line. I figure something's wrong on the island. I give card #1 to the cashier, "swipe, swipe, denied". There's a line forming, but I'm really getting curly hair on the back of my neck now. I reach for card #2, slide it into the cashier's hand and watch while he "swipes, swipes, DENIED!" Now the line is four deep and wife is at my left elbow with the eats and the Jackson. I'm sweating, and I'm growling inside, not knowing what kind of astrologically, star-crossed conspiracy has descended upon me. Is ARCO ganging up on me? At my right elbow, I feel a warmth. A gentle, swishing kind of presence. As the dogs and the drinks and the $20 all land on the counter at the same time, a very firm, commanding but extremely smooth voice says, "cover it with this."
I turn to see golden hair, well brushed and aromatic. Sweet smooth cheeks with a slight flush, bright blue eyes with a deep gentleness and a smile that could light the Taj Mahal. In her hand, a simple Master Card, outstretched to the cashier. I settle my eyes into hers, give her a wan smile and gently but firmly say, "you are so kind, but we will be fine with the Jackson. Please, Ma'am, it's OK. " The warm presence hesitates, doesn't retract the card right away, insisting that she meant what she said. I smile lightly, wink at her and say softly, "we're OK, Ma'am." She retracts her arm, and returns to her place at the end of the line.
I tell the cashier that the cash is for the eats and gas on number 7. He says OK, and punches it into the computer. My only money disappears. I turn to leave and I slide my gaze over to the Golden Haired Angel. I have a golf ball in my throat and a fog in my eyes, so with a weak smile and a lip-sync "thank you" accompanied by a wink, I leave and go to the pump to get what gas I got for my change from the 20.
I tell the cashier that the cash is for the eats and gas on number 7. He says OK, and punches it into the computer. My only money disappears. I turn to leave and I slide my gaze over to the Golden Haired Angel. I have a golf ball in my throat and a fog in my eyes, so with a weak smile and a lip-sync "thank you" accompanied by a wink, I leave and go to the pump to get what gas I got for my change from the 20.
I quickly squirt the gas into the tank and leave for LAX. I thank God for my 50 MPG Hybrid. Wife and I are silent from emotion for the first forty-five minutes of the trip. We then pray the rosary, making the Golden Haired Angel the object of our offerings. I don't know who you are, Lady, but God knows. I don't know if you even believe in God. What I do know is that two old people with credit cards that were the victims of an equipment malfunction told God to hold you close to Him, forever.
By the way, we didn't have enough money for parking, and the plane was late, so I drove around in circles for one hour before picking up our passenger and leaving LAX. We returned home on the strength of hybrid engineering, 62 Mile Per Hour cruise controlled speed, gas tank fumes and on the spirit of your spontaneous, generous act. If the world had more people like you, there would be a lot less crying at funerals because we would all be sure that another angel had taken God's hand and walked home with Him.
By the way, we didn't have enough money for parking, and the plane was late, so I drove around in circles for one hour before picking up our passenger and leaving LAX. We returned home on the strength of hybrid engineering, 62 Mile Per Hour cruise controlled speed, gas tank fumes and on the spirit of your spontaneous, generous act. If the world had more people like you, there would be a lot less crying at funerals because we would all be sure that another angel had taken God's hand and walked home with Him.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
SADDAM HUSSEIN -- WHY WASTE THE ROPE?
Kill Saddam? Why waste the rope? Do not celebrate the death of Saddam Hussein. It is a sad day when a world renown figure dies. Even one who was as cruel as Saddam is reported to have been. It is an even sadder day when that figure dies because of the vengeful acts of a power mongering rival world leader. Saddam Hussein died a long time ago. When his foray into Kuwait was thwarted by the "Desert Storm" campaign, he died. he was alive but his country was his coffin. He could do nothing. He could go nowhere. Even his airplanes were boxed in, to the point where he had them buried in the sand. He had become a non-entity. He was nothing but a tin-can dictator in a country that had nothing left to offer the world but the Babylonian antiques on display. The only reason why the United States was engaged in Iraq was that George W. Bush wanted to avenge the threat that Saddam had made on George H.W. Bush's life during "Desert Storm". There were no WMD, there was not, and still is not, a profitable oil producing industry, there was not a powerful armed services. In fact there was not even a well organized and well managed government. Among all those negatives, there was one positive: the government, for what it was worth, was secular. Now why would the United States want to upset that situation? To save lives? No way. Lives don't mean anything to the United States. Ask the Ruwandans; ask the Ethiopians; Ask the Sudanese; Ask the Somalians; Ask the Burmese, the Ugandans, Finally, ask the Darfurians. If you care to, read the history of the Holocaust and then ask the Jewish people if the United States valued life then. Of course they didn't.
Do not celebrate the execution of Saddam Hussein. Here was a living challenger to the American way of governance. Saddam was not afraid to gore some of our sacred cows. In his death, he confronts us with our very own sanctimonious conviction that we respect life more than he did. How do we prove that by celebrating his death? We have his blood on our hands. The revenge that we took out on him by deposing him and "bringing him to justice" prove that in our own way we too are dictators. In our own way, we place ourselves in the same league with God and decide whether a person lives or dies. We easily make the jump from, "It's my body" to "It's my world" and I'll make you a democratic republic whether you like it or not, even at the cost of the life of your leader.
We sit here in the United States and we disparage the Muslims because of their disregard for the value of life. How did we prove that we respect life more than they by taking the life of Saddam? How does our Christian President make the case that Christians consider life the most valuable gift that is? This Christian President of ours doesn't seem to be the least bit disturbed by his sponsorship of the deah of Saddam. This Christian president of ours has caused more death and irreparable pain in the lives of tens of thousands of people in the name of his own agrandisement -- his legacy. This doesn't appear to me to be a very good case for making Christians look good in comparison to Muslims.
Finally, I'm not an E-Bay person, but if one of you sees the rope listed on E-Bay, buy it and send it to Dr. Dean in Burlington, Vermont. He may find good use for it.
Do not celebrate the execution of Saddam Hussein. Here was a living challenger to the American way of governance. Saddam was not afraid to gore some of our sacred cows. In his death, he confronts us with our very own sanctimonious conviction that we respect life more than he did. How do we prove that by celebrating his death? We have his blood on our hands. The revenge that we took out on him by deposing him and "bringing him to justice" prove that in our own way we too are dictators. In our own way, we place ourselves in the same league with God and decide whether a person lives or dies. We easily make the jump from, "It's my body" to "It's my world" and I'll make you a democratic republic whether you like it or not, even at the cost of the life of your leader.
We sit here in the United States and we disparage the Muslims because of their disregard for the value of life. How did we prove that we respect life more than they by taking the life of Saddam? How does our Christian President make the case that Christians consider life the most valuable gift that is? This Christian President of ours doesn't seem to be the least bit disturbed by his sponsorship of the deah of Saddam. This Christian president of ours has caused more death and irreparable pain in the lives of tens of thousands of people in the name of his own agrandisement -- his legacy. This doesn't appear to me to be a very good case for making Christians look good in comparison to Muslims.
Finally, I'm not an E-Bay person, but if one of you sees the rope listed on E-Bay, buy it and send it to Dr. Dean in Burlington, Vermont. He may find good use for it.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
CIRCLE OF INCOMPETENCE
You're not going to believe this. This is a relation concerning office management realities that sound too bad to be true. I guarantee that all these verbographs are true. I have heard them all over 30 years of human resources experience.
He's been with the company for 25 years.
She's the founder's wife, so we humor her. ($100,000 p/yr. joke)
They're illegal, but they work hard.
She doesn't make that many mistakes. We can usually catch them.
The vendor charges more than we like, but we've been doing business for years.
The vendor (same) won't come out to fix or replace our computer because he has too much work.
She does excellent work when she's here.
I keep her for humanitarian reasons.
I miss a lot of work because my son has to use the car.
I didn't tell you that he was taking the money because I thought you would fire me.
We weren't being harassed, we liked it and we were having fun.
Is this the first report you have of his harassing female employees? No. It's the third time.
We're going to make 'em work on Friday even if it is a holiday. It's not a big, important one anyway.
If you don't like it, sue us. (They did. The Company lost. Oops, there goes $5 million)
OSHA ? Tell 'em to get lost. We're busy. They should make an appointment. ("They" did) The appointment hasn't ended yet.
We don't hire their kind here. (Now they don't hire anyone, they're in prison.)
It's OK, you can sign it. If they want their money, they can sue us.
I thought it would be OK to be late for the interview.
I can't fire him, he's black.
Hire her, we need more white people here.
I don't care if we have no designated parking, put my name on the closest parking space.
I don't care if the new owners are coming, this is my vacation time.
You promised me a bonus. I want it. (He caused a $2 million loss)
We hired her to help you. (I quit, she lasted 4 months)
He drinks a lot, but that's how he functions best.
Why did you hire someone as ugly as her?
I'm just testing her by taking more and more responsibilities away from her.
Trust me, I didn't make any of this stuff up.
He's been with the company for 25 years.
She's the founder's wife, so we humor her. ($100,000 p/yr. joke)
They're illegal, but they work hard.
She doesn't make that many mistakes. We can usually catch them.
The vendor charges more than we like, but we've been doing business for years.
The vendor (same) won't come out to fix or replace our computer because he has too much work.
She does excellent work when she's here.
I keep her for humanitarian reasons.
I miss a lot of work because my son has to use the car.
I didn't tell you that he was taking the money because I thought you would fire me.
We weren't being harassed, we liked it and we were having fun.
Is this the first report you have of his harassing female employees? No. It's the third time.
We're going to make 'em work on Friday even if it is a holiday. It's not a big, important one anyway.
If you don't like it, sue us. (They did. The Company lost. Oops, there goes $5 million)
OSHA ? Tell 'em to get lost. We're busy. They should make an appointment. ("They" did) The appointment hasn't ended yet.
We don't hire their kind here. (Now they don't hire anyone, they're in prison.)
It's OK, you can sign it. If they want their money, they can sue us.
I thought it would be OK to be late for the interview.
I can't fire him, he's black.
Hire her, we need more white people here.
I don't care if we have no designated parking, put my name on the closest parking space.
I don't care if the new owners are coming, this is my vacation time.
You promised me a bonus. I want it. (He caused a $2 million loss)
We hired her to help you. (I quit, she lasted 4 months)
He drinks a lot, but that's how he functions best.
Why did you hire someone as ugly as her?
I'm just testing her by taking more and more responsibilities away from her.
Trust me, I didn't make any of this stuff up.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
NO APOLOGY NEEDED, THANK YOU
Benedict XVI will not apologize to the Muslim People. He spoke the truth about Islam in
Germany about one week ago. He knows it. The Muslim religious leaders know it. The
Christian Theologians and Historians know it too. The Pope will not apologize for speaking the truth. I don't blame him and neither should you. Those of you who are reading this should also spend some time on search sites and educate yourselves about this controversy.
PS You Ivy League Oligarchs on Pennsylvania Avenue should ask the pope for some guidance on this. He would no doubt tell you that the French were dead right on this one.
Germany about one week ago. He knows it. The Muslim religious leaders know it. The
Christian Theologians and Historians know it too. The Pope will not apologize for speaking the truth. I don't blame him and neither should you. Those of you who are reading this should also spend some time on search sites and educate yourselves about this controversy.
PS You Ivy League Oligarchs on Pennsylvania Avenue should ask the pope for some guidance on this. He would no doubt tell you that the French were dead right on this one.
Monday, August 28, 2006
To the Lady with the Tattoo
Ah, what a sight! There I was standing in the doorway, holding the heavy door open for your convenience as you helped your beautiful daughter cross the sidewalk and gain entry to the vestibule. She is so tall and so classic in her presentation of herself. She was clad in white satin, a perfect sculpture, an enrapturing goddess framed in the gothic church door with a 1,000 watt smile, appropriate for her day.
Ah, what a sight!2 You too were quite a sight. Ebony hair waving around about your shoulders as if it had been conditioned for a television commercial. Your shiny, deep brown eyes, high cheek bones and luscious sensually puffed out lips all highlighting a stunning light chestnut complexion. The proximity of your extraordinarily attractive skin moving lithely around the off-setting pure white of your daughter's pre-teen presence was stunningly artistic.
Ah, what a sight!3 Saving the best for last, I have to say that I was really swayed by the top half of your left breast which was decorated with a rather brazen tattoo. It is a mgnificent breast, a fitting companion for the one on the right. Glowing, gently bobbing, animating the tattoo so that it danced on the edge of the cloth that was either trying to hide it or succeeding very well in enhancing the presentation. It was all the more enjoyable because you were not paying the slightest bit of attention to me, only to your daughter trying to get through the door without snagging her magnificent gown. It was one of the more enjoyable 45 or 50 seconds of my life, and right in church too! This whole thing was climaxed by your eyes meeting mine and our lips communicating happiness and satisfaction by mutually complementing smiles. You then completed your entry, and I, my exit. But I'll never forget it.
I guess I'll never know whether to be disappointed or not that this all happened in church. I still haven't decided whether or not I should feel guilty for the prurient pleasure that I experienced for about one minute or whether I should cast the pall of guilt over to you for daring to appear in church on the day of your daughter's first communion with your sexual assets so audaciously exposed. I suppose I should thank God for allowing me the concupiscent pleasure at the sight of one of His more magnificent successes. I often wonder if you set out on a mission to broadcast God's gifts of glorious beauty in two rather complementary examples, one pre-pubescent and the other, ripe and succulent, sweet to the bone.
Conclusion: I've decided to enjoy the glory of God's creation as He exposed it to me that day in His church. I've decided that He sent you to me and to the others who derived similar pleasure from your well shaped and tastefully decorated anatomy. My experience tells me that after first communion the next time you will be at the door of the church, your feet will precede your breasts. By then, I will have been told by the guardian at the pearly gates whether I have sinned or not in the enjoyment of your body. Therefore, I wish you well, and I beg of you, when you go to church the next time, please cover your assets.
Ah, what a sight!2 You too were quite a sight. Ebony hair waving around about your shoulders as if it had been conditioned for a television commercial. Your shiny, deep brown eyes, high cheek bones and luscious sensually puffed out lips all highlighting a stunning light chestnut complexion. The proximity of your extraordinarily attractive skin moving lithely around the off-setting pure white of your daughter's pre-teen presence was stunningly artistic.
Ah, what a sight!3 Saving the best for last, I have to say that I was really swayed by the top half of your left breast which was decorated with a rather brazen tattoo. It is a mgnificent breast, a fitting companion for the one on the right. Glowing, gently bobbing, animating the tattoo so that it danced on the edge of the cloth that was either trying to hide it or succeeding very well in enhancing the presentation. It was all the more enjoyable because you were not paying the slightest bit of attention to me, only to your daughter trying to get through the door without snagging her magnificent gown. It was one of the more enjoyable 45 or 50 seconds of my life, and right in church too! This whole thing was climaxed by your eyes meeting mine and our lips communicating happiness and satisfaction by mutually complementing smiles. You then completed your entry, and I, my exit. But I'll never forget it.
I guess I'll never know whether to be disappointed or not that this all happened in church. I still haven't decided whether or not I should feel guilty for the prurient pleasure that I experienced for about one minute or whether I should cast the pall of guilt over to you for daring to appear in church on the day of your daughter's first communion with your sexual assets so audaciously exposed. I suppose I should thank God for allowing me the concupiscent pleasure at the sight of one of His more magnificent successes. I often wonder if you set out on a mission to broadcast God's gifts of glorious beauty in two rather complementary examples, one pre-pubescent and the other, ripe and succulent, sweet to the bone.
Conclusion: I've decided to enjoy the glory of God's creation as He exposed it to me that day in His church. I've decided that He sent you to me and to the others who derived similar pleasure from your well shaped and tastefully decorated anatomy. My experience tells me that after first communion the next time you will be at the door of the church, your feet will precede your breasts. By then, I will have been told by the guardian at the pearly gates whether I have sinned or not in the enjoyment of your body. Therefore, I wish you well, and I beg of you, when you go to church the next time, please cover your assets.
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