Yesterday, morning I wept.

I wept because my heart was so full of sadness and a sense of tragedy.

I was listening to the sermon online that had been preached at my local church this past Sunday because I wasn't in attendance.  Around halfway through, the pastor said he was going to tell the congregation why he was wearing jeans.  He had been teaching from Colossians 2:16-23 and discussing how regulations from the world, regulations that people have tacked on to God's law and then imposed arrogantly on others have an appearance of wisdom but actually lack any value (in the pursuit of righteousness).

He said that in Baptist circles, the biggest such hang-up is probably legalism.

He told the congregation that the church had received a letter this week from a visitor who had been told by one of our congregants that they probably shouldn't enter the auditorium because they were wearing jeans.

I froze.

I literally froze and sat there unbelieving and horrified.  I couldn't believe it.


I'm glad the visitor wrote to say something and I'm glad the pastor wore jeans because if there was ever a time to buck social expectations to make a point, THIS was it.

I've actually wondered about whether this might happen at the church I attend.  I felt so ashamed at the time to be associated with this church.  (I remembered that I'm not perfect and not better but at the time I felt deep shame.)


The pastor sensibly, wisely jumped out of Colossians and headed to James who is more explicit:

My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don’t show favoritism.  Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? (2:1-4)


What was done to that person is appalling and obscene and devastating.  It's disgusting.

When I snapped out of my stupor I paused the sermon to finish something else I was doing and while working on what ever other task it was, the sadness grew and grew.  I was trying to ask God to tell me what to do at this weird crossroads (How do I respond?  What is helpful? How do I insure that I never do this? In what ways have I already done this?) but I couldn't get many words out before tears started coming.

I don't cry easily and I don't cry quickly.  This was unprecedented.


I'm so happy the pastor addressed it promptly and in a sermon so he could speak to the entire congregation.  It's relevant!  Part of his job is to correct!  He spoke calmly but there was a definite undercurrent of well-placed anger.  His statement "This must never happen again" was so perfectly measured and uncompromising that I think it made the discussion as serious as it could possibly be.


In addition to citing James, he pointed out that there is a flaw in some Christians' reasoning that we should dress our best because we're presenting ourselves before a King (the King above all kings, in fact).  It's true that He has the most authority and deserves the most respect - like a King of kings - however that is ONE image of God.  God is also a shepherd.  "Would you dress up in a suit and tie if you were going to meet a shepherd?" he asked.  God is also a Father.  The logic doesn't fly.  Using one image of God to control people and justify a weird rule about clothing is not right.


I cried hard because someone (an anyone) was mistreated and robbed of a chance to hear the Gospel or even to meet Christ. In fact, it was an utter contradiction of the Gospel itself.


It was wonderful how the end of the sermon took hopelessness out of the picture.  There is grace for all and we can learn from this.



Listen to the sermon here.

some blip of a blog post

After Saturday's game, we were leaving the park with hordes of other fans and a busker began playing "Take Me out to the Ball Game" on the flute.  We were just about to cross the street, half a block away when I turned and pointed saying, "She played that wrong!" before my common sense could remind me to keep such things to myself.  I continued... "She missed the sharp four!" sounding quite indignant.

She did play a diatonic note where there should have been a non-diatonic one but
a) it was actually a sharp five she missed, I just didn't take more than a nanosecond to think it through
b) really, me??, and
c) I need to find another outlet/use for my incessant tonal analysis.

On Monday during the drive back I told my friend that when she'd veered onto those hey, wake up! strips on the side of the highway (I guess they're actually grooves) that they made the subdominant of the song we were currently listening to off Adele's 21 (2011).  She said, "Huh," in an I-think-you-know-better-than-to-expect-me-to-understand-or-be-impressed-by-that kind of way which is fair enough.


After that Saturday flute comment my friend demanded, "Who notices that??" and I returned, "I notice all tonal things around me!  I think about it all the time!  When was the last time I got to sing or play the piano?! I need an outlet!" my volume and mock-agitation increasing as the rant continued.  But, to my relief, her small smile grew as I "explained" which gave me hope that she may be able to perceive a sensible love of music somewhere at the root of my weirdness and shouting (and yes, showing off).


I thought of this because I have been singing on and off since I got home almost three hours ago and none of it has properly satisfied.  (I don't mind waiting at this point because I know there's a piano in my near (TOMORROW!) future and I will go to town.)  But... it's a weird thing.  It's like I can only last so long without outward music-ing but of course I don't notice it til I'm in withdrawl.

During my five days away, I could only sing in the car IF there was a song on that I knew AND it wouldn't distract my friend.  I also had to sing quietly to minimize obnoxiousness so it was.. better than nothing but difficile.  Guess now this is Day 7 without piano and unrestricted singing.

Dash it. I'm gonna pull out "Someone Like You" lyrics right now. I don't even care.

Bautista on the 15-day DL. :(

Today I brought a dozen (might have been eleven..) cookies into work because I thought my coworker would take his normal afternoon shift on this his birthday.  He didn't.  (Why didn't I confirm BEFORE I started baking?)

I texted him to say that today I learned that not confirming people coming in on their birthday creates cookie orphans and attached a photo.  I wanted him to know I hadn't forgotten on the day and give the opportunity to say he was coming in any way or was in the area (for whatever reason).  He did say he needed to come in but a couple hours after I'd already given them away!

Around noon someone whose birthday was in March or April, a funvorite (fun + favorite?), showed up and in a moment I decided the cookies could go to him.  I had meant to bake something, forgot the day after and then thought too much time had passed for his birthday proper.  Since these cookies couldn't go to my coworker til Thursday (which is too stale for life) and I didn't want to bring them home they went to A.

When he entered the shop to pay for his gas he immediately chose my till even though my line was longer. :) We said some nice hellos and I-haven't-seen-you-in-ages-s and then I asked, "Can I tell you a story?"  I figured if explained how I had originally intended to bake something but kept forgetting, it would seem slightly less weird.  I dunno. I actually thought I would bring two batches to work in hopes of seeing him as I was already in baking mode but when I had finished my coworker's bundle and 11.30 hit last night, I was ready for sleep and only sleep.

He seemed more than a little shocked.... he said, "thank you," fourteen hundred times... he (best of all) did not appear weirded out and he insisted on giving me a hug.  I insisted that it was impossible with this huge counter between us but he over-insisted.  Amazingly not awkward. Well... 94% not-awkward.

He felt he needed to reciprocate and asked when my birthday was.  I very rarely get to answer that question with, "Actually it's tomorrow."  Often when people ask, I tell them it was yesterday...but never when it was actually yesterday...I just like doing it because I am weird.  I told him I wasn't going to be at work for a while...and wish I had done a better job of telling him he doesn't need to do anything for me (and I mean this) but I just didn't for whatever reason.

Highlight of my day.

--


[At my other job,] My boss was talking to me about language, about propositions in language and I didn't understand all of it (which I enjoy).  He gave the example of a sentence in English not containing the same words as the sentence of the same proposition in German and I asked how the exact same sentiment could be expressed without the same words.  How do you say, "The water is cold," in German without using any of those words?

"OK."  He says, slipping into teacher mode, "How do you say 'water' in German?"

Why he thought I might know, I can't fathom but I answered without thinking, "Wasser," realising later I really should have used an article but there we go.  Anglophone up in here.

He continues*, "OK -- 'wasser' and 'water' are not the same word."

"Ohhhhh you just mean the two languages are different."  (A question without an inquisitive tone.)

Yes, that's what he meant.  We soon established that I don't know what he meant by "proposition" and when he realised I wasn't being coy about that ignorance he relented and we resumed the business matter at hand.

*I think the keyest part of this interaction, to my delight, is being spoken to as if I am a competent and intelligent person.  He doesn't seem to blink with me... just assumes I'll pick things up -- and something in that confidence makes me more confident in my replies.  It's a cool thing to have someone assume the best of you or assume high aptitude for you.


---

Early in the morning good ol B____ came in.  I have probably never written about him but he's a daily and sometimes twice- or thrice-a-day-ly.  He's very funny and he's part of the coworking threesome with Mercurial S___, the tight-lipped scowler.

I like him separate from other associations.. he is downright funny.  He's actually quite bright but only exposes this in brief moments.  It's wonderful.. he makes me laugh and his pop culture references are clutch.

Today he was second in line after a guy who asked for cigarettes in four different ways, resulting in three trips back and forth between the cabinets and the counter.  I don't mind correcting if people make mistakes or change their mind but this guy was being unclear, contradicting himself and presuming too much that what he wanted could be reasonably interpreted from what he said.  (It couldn't.)  I regret not being more gracious.

They're cashed out and then B comes up.  He puts a couple bottles of water down and says, "Yes, please," which prompts me to pull his cigarettes from under the register where I'd stashed them before I had a queue.

I inquire, full of facetiousness, "You're not going to change your mind four times?"

He replies, "They probably just wanted to look at ya," and the gutteral Iamsogrossedoutrightnow sound that came out of my throat was uninhibited.  It lasted longer than I expected (the sound) but I was thoroughly grossed out (don't ask me why).

He's laughing a little bit as I'm shuddering and trying to shake it off.  Then I announce, "we're done," moving my hands resolutely, like an ump calling a runner safe.

"Hahaha that's it, eh?" he asks and now I see he's blushing (don't ask me why).

"Yep.  I'm never talking to you again."

He laughs more, collecting his purchases and at the last minute I throw in a "just kidding" because I'm of course not 100% sure he knows I'm joking.  It was funny.  He was poking fun at me and it was funny.  The humor overrode the grossness which is always a plus.


-

I'll be going on vacation in about thirty hours...I've been getting more excited by the day for about a fortnight.  It'll be great.  Last legit vacation was October and before that May 2010. I don't even care. THIS ONE WILL BE GREAT.  I don't even care.

today was the first time I ever shouted "amen" in a church service.

Several weeks ago the new lead pastor moved to town and began full-time work at our local church.

[This is my 1000th post on this blog and while I wanted to compose something thoroughly epic, I haven't had time to craft it so this is what I'm writing about.]

(1/3) At the beginning, I was looking forward to what he might preach about with curiosity and interest.  He told us that if he ever stopped preaching the Gospel we should fire him.  When I had expressed some concerns to him midweek, he told me that, for his part, he's, "going to preach [his] life out."
Sounded like he didn't mean it just as consolation for me, nor as a neat solution to the issues I'd brought up.  Sounds like that's all he can ever do ... for anything.  That's his calling. That's it.

During these weeks, I read the apostle Paul's letter to the church at Colosse in a new way.  The Scriptures really encompassed me and drew me in to a depth I'd never experienced when paired with a sermon (series).

(2/3) Around the three-week mark, I began to anticipate the sermons with excitement.  Part-way through the week I would wonder delightedly what would be shared, how I would be challenged, instructed and educated.  The sermons were for us. 
It seemed the Word of God was bottomless and striking.  It seemed we could hear from it all day and that spending twenty minutes in half a sentence was perfectly appropriate.  I could see other people being reached like I was -- and reached like people usually aren't in this church.

It is a remarkable thing to see people wake up from a long coma and instead of being grouchy and disoriented, they leap back into a proper, full life at the first available moment.  Something is different; something is changing.

It is an incredible thing to feel like we are all on the same team, serving the same God and moving in the same direction.  (This is the first stumbling heel-to-toe roll of a baby step but it is something.)  If you attend a church where it's always like this, don't be ungrateful.  It's not our default as Christians to get along and be sensible.

I haven't talked to everyone and I can't see into people's hearts but I know something is changing for the better and it's marvellous.

It clicked for me last Sunday in particular that people (many different people) are responding with such receptiveness and softness of heart in part because the pastor is preaching with authority.  Realising this made me understand Matthew 7:28-9 for the first time.

"When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, because he taught as one who had authority, and not as their teachers of the law."

It's astonishing to hear the Word of God taught with authority.

(3/3) This week (week six?) I felt begrudging dread to think of the sermon.  Previously, I was loving looking forward to having my (spiritual) butt kicked.  I stopped going online several times a week to listen to a preacher at a different church who also opens the Scriptures beautifully and refuses to mince words.  I stopped partly because I didn't need the butt-kicking as much and also because I started feeling convicted about how I should be fed at home.  Supplements are fine but I was trying to attend two local churches in my heart and split loyalty doesn't fly.

However, looking toward this Sunday I was dragging my feet.  Putting the service together was fun and we discovered some wonderful, creative things during the mid-week rehearsal but Friday & Saturday saw a pit growing in my stomach.  (Is that a phrase?) Did not feel like being pummeled against the ropes again.  Knowing that God isn't cruel I should have nothing to fear but this is a distinct season of dread and grinding out that I think I've just entered.  I hope it's not terrible.  I hope even more that James 1:22-5.

"But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing."

The butt-kick, the pummeling is useless if it only produces a bruised wimp.  I expect to change.  I want to put the compelling teaching into action.  It's the only thing.

This morning's service was unbelievable.  How long can I rattle on?  I'll make a Top 5 list.

1) A murmur sifted through the congregation at the conclusion of the Scripture reading that I have never heard before.  It was an auxiliary reading I had selected to precede "Nothing but the Blood" in our first block of songs.  It was Galatians 3:1-5 and people listened carefully.  No one told them why it was being read, what they should be listening for or how to apply what they were hearing.  It was the Word of God read among believers and it sent a comprehending ripple through the room. 

2) A voice from a throat no younger than sixty declared a hearty amen when we finished singing a song composed in the early 90s.  I felt humbled by the fact that this man just understood the truth of the song so well that era and style were completely irrelevant.  God, help my stubbornness and lame assumptions.

3) Our Sunday morning rehearsal bore a wonderful accident that allowed me to hear a much better blending option that I'd concocted Wednesday.  Finish first song with two bars of the tonic (C), melody drops off after first four beats and then guitar cuts after eight.  Percussion continues but boosts the tempo and piano jumps immediately into E B/E A/E E of next song.
(To have the first brain wave and then need three tries to show the team what I was hearing; to have a dependable, talented, ambitious drummer whom I could trust to thread the needle on the tempo & transition and be perfectly followable (she was); to have it all click for them; to have them all love it: to have the congregation GET it and start expressing physical worship; to do the whole song honestly and passionately (because He is King) and then to finish together and gently, prompting that bold, "AMEN" from the middle of the room..... wow.)

4) The sermon.

5) The closing song which the pastor commanded us not to think of as another closing song.  He said in the sermon that, "if you're not thankful you don't get it."  We have amazing things for which we should be thankful to God and so we should be singing our thanks, singing our worship, singing our love for Him in this closing song.  He practically warned us that we'd better not just sing but properly worship. (Not the first time he's said that.)
He even suggested a moment to set our hearts aright before we launch into something formulaic.  Right on, brotha man.
I can't say how much I appreciate his not being afraid of silence and even insisting upon it during appropriate moments of a Sunday morning service.


---

Not a short post but I don't even care.  Jesus is incredible -- look what He's doing in my life.  I'll blog about Him as long as I please.

still from the list...

The other week I needed to email someone to make a request and based on his wife saying his arm might need twisting I thought I'd get creative.  One lame trip to Wikipedia and bunch of squinting later, I sent this:

Hi [his name],

IF (you would play O Canada with us on Sunday)
THEN
    (I would be very happy)
ELSE
    (it would be totally fine)
END IF

 Please believe me that the lameness of it was overwhelmingly obvious.  But...I like this kind of thing.  Codes..patterns..other languages...trying to get into others' wheelhouses.  And I miss being able to talk computers with anyone.  (He works with computers and of course I forget how.)

Even if his reply was purely business (i.e. "Yes, I'll play," or, "No, I can't") I was still going to send the lame email. His reply:

Nice.

IF (there is music) AND (it is in the right key) 

THEN

  {I would be happy to}

ELSE

  {I would sound horrible}

ENDIF

It made my stinkin day.  Made my day.  He's not an overly talkative person so I always need to work harder (which I love); he's interesting and I like him (and his wife!) and this was fun. When I saw him on Sunday he explained where I'd gone wrong with my email but reassured me that it made enough sense.  Apparently it's psuedo-code.  I don't care.  Made my day.

:)

Yesterday at work the second customer in line leaned out saying, "Hello, Jessica!"  I cringed at the sound of his familiar voice.  I just don't like the way he looks at, talks to and treats me.  I especially don't like that he says my name with the three syllables so distinct even though I told him there was no "i" in my name.  He didn't take the correction or bother to learn it properly. For someone who's trying to sway my affection it's a surprising (and almost insulting) mistake.

He asks if I work Saturday afternoons and I say I normally don't. Very little eye-contact.  Cringe. He replies, "Yeah -- it's usually the blonde," with a note of arrogance that doesn't fly with me.  How special that you know our schedules.  Perhaps by "special" I mean "creepy" or "inappropriate to share".  He's really trying to engage me in conversation and act like we know each other.  It bothers me that he insists we know each other, and more so when others are around.

Without really thinking (thank You, Jesus), I said sternly, "Her name is Alison*," because I don't care about schedules or what he finds surprising or interesting but I do care about women being treated with respect.  "The blonde."  Such garbage.  You're gonna tell me you know what shifts she works but you don't remember her name?  Get out of my face.  (...apparently this still bothers me.)

Then there was a surprising moment that diminished my frustration significantly, even though I feel I kinda missed it (the moment).  The customer I was presently serving, who was using the debit/credit pinpad, laughed at my retort. He 100% understood what I was implying and thought it was funny that I would try to put this guy in his place. Ha. I was too preoccupied to connect with him on it though I'm sure it would have been one of those great knowing glances between strangers.  (I guess I wasn't expecting anything from him based on his body language and speech but now the door might be just cracked slightly and maybe I'll remember him next time.)

--

I wasn't going to type this and now it's 168 days past my bed time but here we go.  I just remembered that on Tuesday, when two coverall-ed coworkers came in for the third time, I took a shot in the dark to break the ice.  (Two idioms in one sentence -- did you see that?) One of them sometimes gives me looks like he's expecting me to talk or we have talked in the past (I don't remember) and the other is just a jovial kind of easy-going dude who brings levity to the former.  They walked up with their whatevers (beef jerky and energy drinks, I think) and I said, my hand poised like I was confirming the order from table 12, "You guys do actually go to work when you're not here, right?"

Pause to process the shock of non-cashier talk, pause to process the sarcasm and taking of the mick, then laughter and mock hurt.  They legit tried to explain how, when you're in maintenance, you can't exactly create or predict work but I wasn't having any of it.  They end up chatting among themselves (as most couplets in this situation do -- it's safer) and I slip back into cashier mode.  I like it when I can tell the stone wall has come crashing down between a regular and myself.

Best flavor is when they came in the next time and the one guy yelled all the way from the door, "I know, I know - we don't work," showing that he's not exactly creative with humor but he liked the running joke.  Nonetheless, I was so caught of guard and delighted that I legit spit my water out.  Another door cracked but I'm not even sure what's next.  There we go.  Bed time.


*name changed for privacy!

It's a Sunday afternoon.

Hello.

This morning was different and good.

After service a nice lady I'm getting to know said something about how much she enjoyed the service and the music.  The person she'd just been talking to added how she appreciated the planning and thought it seemed I'd put in.  I didn't particularly feel this week like I put more thought or effort in but what I said to them was true: "[Our pastor] kicked my butt this week." (He really worked me over.)

The second asked in what way he had kicked it but the first knew exactly what I meant.  I said it was just like how he kicks our butt every Sunday from the pulpit.  She agreed heartily which was pretty neat. She acted out the spiritual pummeling while I was saying it's like, "Holy Spirit! ksh! ksh!" while pretending to backhand someone. [ksh is the smacking sound.]


I stopped to talk to more people than I usually do.  In the sermon (drawn from Colossians 2:1-5) we learned about what it means to be united in love with other believers.  Pastor pointed out that this doesn't mean being close with a couple people or families, chatting with half a dozen people on your way out of the building after service and continuing in your isolated life throughout the week.

He said we can't treat Christ's bride terribly and expect to be in good relationship with Christ.

I've been thinking for a couple months how I should work harder at integrating myself into this body of believers but I usually just don't feel like it. At certain point I just don't (didn't?) care.  I know that's unacceptable.

Today is just one day but before I left the pew I asked God to give me a heart change and the genuine desire to start changing, to invest in people and to be real instead of having a knee-jerk reaction to a sermon.  I also asked that I would recognize future opportunities to embed myself as I am presented with tons of them on a regular basis.

It was different.  It was funny! I talked to people like I gave a crap and didn't feel the need to rush away nor did I feel justified in it (despite the reality of an upcoming midterm).

[During the bridge of the second song we played & sang, I remembered a friend of mine that I miss.  I told myself I should sit in that missing feeling and pray compassionately but I forgot.]

I shook hands with someone new whose hand I should have shook (shaken?) weeks ago.  He knew my name before I said it which is kinda pecules but I can't say that's the first time it's happened.  He also made me laugh with quick wit.  He's more open than I expected and I think I could legit talk to him without having to try. (+blessing) I.... felt better about talking to people.  Sometimes I just don't like talking to people. This is huge.  I hope it's more than today. 

It's like a switch was flipped. And now that I'm reading over what I've typed so far, I realise that from the front pew by stage right, up the aisle, down the hall, past the nursery, in front of the reception desk and even during the lift home, I was the friendly other person that lives inside me who makes such a difference at my workplace.  Totally did not know that other person could exist outside of work.  This is interesting.

She's the cat that will talk to anyone who will give her time, will seek commonalities or starting points, do a gesture, make a lame joke to get them to open up...anything.  Anything and without some determined end-point.  Just care about/love people.  Interesting.  Inexplicable energy source for it, and it edges out selfishness considerably. This is all very interesting.  It deserves more thought.  I'm interested.  I thought this other person only lived in my uniform with a nametag.  Go figure.

--

Other bonus from this morning --
The sermon included the use of the following words:
-clique (pronounced correctly: with a long "i")
-oscillation (just a gorgeous rich word with no strong synonym)
-jive (come on.)
-snookered (don't even look at me.)

(another off the list)

J__ was back to his old self today.  Wow.  I was smiling secretly to myself quite a bit when I was stocking cigarettes between breaks of talking to him.  Before he came in I had decided I wouldn't ask about his mum because I've made that the FIRST thing I've asked about the last three weeks and since part of his answer always includes how it's weighing on his mind I thought I could let him bring it up. 
When I went to say hello (I had no customers) I blurted out how I had finally seen The Avengers (2012).  We'd been talking about it since it opened (how he went with his son and loved it, how I need to go see it, how his son has now seen it five times, how I need to see it, how great it is, and so forth) and I wanted to share.

He was in a good mood.  He was more present than he has been lately, more patient and funny.  He was making me laugh with silly comments and even some slapstick.  The Old J__ was back!  We had fun. His mum is better; she's out of the ICU and he's on vacation within three days.

He shared with me more than he realised in a handful of sentences about the movie Constantine (2005), the Bible and the Quran.  It made me immensely sad. 


I guess I knew a bit of where he stood from past conversations but I did think him more neutral than this.  It's ...sucky but I'm trying to churn the sadness into compassion and kindness (and the drive to keep investing in the relationship).

--

Last week a hard-working young man, his 40-foot truck parked by the diesel pump, came in and asked if someone had turned in a credit card the day before.  I told him I hadn't seen one and then I looked in the lost-and-found.  He told me this was the last place he thinks they had it.  I could see that it was not going to go well for him once he had to report to the boss that yes, they had certainly lost the corporate credit card.  Even his body language, leaning on the counter, was like he was begging for me to find it.

I asked for some distinguishing features as I rooted through the miles of cards but I didn't have the one he sought.  Because he took a second to absorb the information before walking away and because I was feeling ambitious, I pulled out a small, extremely pink child's accessory and I said seriously, "But I do have some Hello Kitty sunglasses, if that might help..." 

He just looked at me at first, like his ears had lied. He his disbelief became incredulous amusement and his short laugh showed he was experiencing comic relief.  Score.  So glad I didn't chicken out.

So glad for small moments at work that make it fun and sort of take me outside of what I'm doing.

one of seven things I've made a note to blog about.

Couple days ago my boss walked in while I was collating, put down his book and wallet and asked, "Have you seen these?"

He was holding one of our new poly-something one hundred dollar bills.

"Yes.  I'm a cashier; I see those all the time."  I had to battle hard to not sound overly smug.  I think what I was trying to say was that they aren't exactly new anymore since they've been out for a while.

He continues turning it over in his hands looking at different features.  (It's that pause that he uses to set up punch-lines or witty remarks.)  I asked, "Did you know that you can't crumple them up?"

He almost overlaps (...perfect comedic timing - it's gross) to counter, "Yes, but have you seen one of these while you're [sorting] papers?"

I smile the "touché" and admit, "No." I haven't.

"So, what?  You can't crumple them?"

"Yeah.. Apparently you can't tear them.  I donno though - I'm afraid to try too hard."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to try."

"It's a felony, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm not worried about THAT.." (I laugh.) "This is a lot of money for me."
(That did strike me as a little weird that he would say it to me like we were standing on my yacht.)

"Aha.  Try crumpling it."

He balls it up in his hand and then lets it go.  It opens immediately and shows very little creasing.  He seems genuinely surprised and says, "This is made of witchcraft!" It made me laugh a lot because he seems a little more straight-laced than that.

I think I enjoyed the moment more because the only reason he was there was to say goodbye as he was leaving the building.  I guess I'm not as unbearable as I think.

Oh, life.