After being left to my own devices for the past two years I finally went out and got myself a job. I scraped the edges of Craigslist and located a part time banquet serving position (for evenings and weekends it said). The little man that was to become my boss explained that before I would be hired I had to go through a background check and drug test. For a banquet waiter job. Go figure.
Apparently they did not have high standards and so I was invited to an orientation session that mainly focused on the correct placement of silverware and general waiting etiquette. It helped that I had done this work years ago, and so had retained some knowledge of certain issues like the difference between a salad fork and a dessert fork—but they really didn't mention one of the more important aspects about the guests: they all wear hats.
Well not all the guests—just the male ones. Some of them wear black stetsons, wide brimmed and somber while looking somewhat western and sinister. A few would sport great round disks that would be covered in dark brown or black fur. Most, though, just wear a small patch cloth or leather on the top of their head, carefully pinned so it won't move.
They do so, I'm told, in deference to their deity. If they always keep their head covered it shows proper respect to their great social alter ego floating in the sky. It's not just the hats, too—they also show their devoutness by carefully considering what they eat. It's not just a simple matter to serve these guests—what each dish has touched is as important as the food itself.
Being around such people who are so devout gives me yet another vision or window into my own spirituality. I can now more clearly see a separation of the father and the messiah, much in the same way that others might see or view the separation of church and state. It also makes me wonder what the difference would be between a prophet and messiah.
It's eerie and strangely pleasing to service people in their earnest effort at being pious. The atheist in me looks at their efforts as a silly complication to life—amusing and as misguided as the mormons. The devout in me looks upon their self imposed piety with awe at their ability to see themselves as an extension of their god.
