The following is actually a true story. This is intended to be tongue and cheek, with a modicum of sarcasm and hyperbole amplified for comedic effect. This story is a metaphor for how we handle change of any kind, whether it's at our favorite restaurant, our job, or even (heaven forbid)....our church. It's a lesson that we, myself included, often fail.
Today I waked into my favorite Sushi place. I love my sushi place because of the nice folks that work there and the wonderful and affordably priced sushi at lunchtime - and it's all you can eat. I enter hungry and leave satisfied. But today, something was different. The Japanese lady that usually greets me was not at her post. Instead, a shorter and less outgoing Asian lady was there...doing the same thing that MY sushi lady was supposed to do. I saw a few other new faces too. And, the only other familiar face I saw was the cashier, who somehow looked sad, different. And he's sporting a new haircut! I don't like it. Suddenly my eyes spot my normal sushi lady, in the kitchen. What? Why is she not out here with me, attending to MY needs? Will I be forgotten about? I am suddenly scared. Fear of a less than average sushi experience grips my heart. It's all I think about. After I'm seated, I pull out my phone and immediately text my friends, who also frequent this house o'sushi.
"What's with the new lady?" I ask
"Not sure. But she seems nice." one responds
"She's not as good as the other lady" the second friend texts back.
"I am not sure I like this change" I said.
My order is taken and the food arrives. It's delicious like normal....except the wasabi. It's dry and there is clearly not enough of it. Is it because the sushi lady is in the kitchen and not in the hostess spot? That must be it!!! One personnel change and the whole balance of the universe is shifted! I can not enjoy this sushi experience now. It's all wrong. Everything. As I grapple with my internal philosophical sushi ramblings, I happen to notice my sweet tea is empty. No one has attended to this. More imbalance. The new lady comes by and asks if I want more. I say yes. But, she never comes back. Such incompetence! Sacrilege! Does this lady not know the unspoken rule that no sweet tea glass south of the Mason-Dixon line shall never reach the point where sucking through a straw creates the painful audible rattle of emptiness? New haircut guy sees my issue and quickly comes over and fills my glass, and I drink it with the entitled flair of a king at a Renaissance Fair.
Upon my exit as I pay my bill, my normal sushi lady comes to ring me up. We share some polite nods as I search for the pen to sign my debit card receipt, which incidentally did not work and I had to switch to the "backup" pen. This further omen forces me to ask the unavoidable question.
"Uh, I'm not used to seeing you here in the back, you know, in the kitchen." I ask with faux empathy.
"Oh, yeah. It's been busy, and I'm working until 9:30 tonight. It's going to be a long day"
This didn't answer my question about the new hole in the universe that she was a part of creating. And did she think I would sympathize over her long work schedule when my wasabi was dry and my tea glass was empty? I think not! So, I sadly left with a stomach full of sushi but a head full of unanswered questions. I knew this may very well be the end of sushi as I know it. In my mind, a tear slid down my face just like the one on the old Native American man in the anti-littering commercials of the 1980's. Nothing left now but to walk out the door, possibly never to return.
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