signs of life in customer service
last night sometime between my supervisor's surreal questions* and incomprehensible directions** i found myself in a conversation about what the imago dei means in genesis 3. one of my atheistic co-workers suggested that if God created us in his image, then experience suggests that he must be one f'd up deity. the self-professed christians in our group decried that notion and talked about the importance of believing in God's image, even if one doesn't know or can't explain what that means. for my part, i opted out of the conversation and openly wondered why i can't seem to express the imago dei by finding, creating and sustaining God's beauty, goodness and truth in this apparently banal, colorless and altogether ordinary environment.
it seems to me that if i cannot find a way express/incarnate/seek God's image in this ordinary environment, i have no business speaking about the beauty, truth and goodness of God in spaces that are set aside for the sacred. so, instead of treating my coworkers as apt objects of ridicule and approaching customers as confounded equations that no one needs to solve, i am going to to go digging for the imago dei in this apparent wasteland in hopes finding light brighter than the florescent and creation evolving out of the cubes.
* i.e., "isn't this a tit job?" me: "huh?" "don't you just love the job and want to hit it like a tit?" me: "no." "come on, you know this is a tit job..."
** i.e., "you know shave and a haircut, two bits?" me: "yeah." "tap that out for me on your desk!" me: "no." "come on, why can't you tap that out?" me: "because i'm white and bereft of rhythm."