LisaAnne Madden 4m 1,041 #bingo
The views of this article are the perspective of the author and may not be reflective of Confessions of the Professions.
I accepted a part time job at a Catholic Church in a rural area. The job paid fifteen dollars an hour, for cleaning the church, and the bingo hall. How hard could this be? They paid me for ten hours a week, and as long as I came when there were no events scheduled, I could come when I wanted. So, I came mostly when no one else was around, to avoid the nasty church ladies. And yes, they were much worse than the SNL lady, they were in your face b*tchie.
Well, there was one four hundred pound church lady, complete with nasty orthopedic shoes and white stockings which she rolled, sort of like knee highs, just under where her knee would bend. Sometimes, because she rolled the tops of these socks, they were very tight on her leg and she had to remove these thick white, mostly spandex lycra stockings, which showed her pudgy little, really pink, pork like feet. Because of all of the sugar she consumed, she developed diabetes, which was responsible for some of the toes that were missing from each foot. She was not only nasty, but scary ugly as well. Her name is Lois. And I have not worked there for two years but I still hate her very much and I peruse the obituaries weekly, just to see if she has died, because that is just how much I still hate her. When I receive confirmation that Lois really is dead, I am going to break open that bottle of Jaeger Meister I bought for myself the day I quit that job, and I am going to drink until I pass out, celebrating the death of Lois, the nasty bingo calling, church lady from Hell.
Two times when I went to work, just to clean the bingo hall, Lois was already there. She said she had to supervise me and watch me work. This was a total lie. The priest, Father Henry, told me that as long as I cleaned, and there were no problems, that I did not need a supervisor. This church lady was not even an employee of that church, she just showed up to every event, pushing people around.
Well, one day I went to work at a different time than I usually did, because I was trying to avoid Lois, the resident b*tch. She was not expecting me to be there, and of course, I was not thinking that she would be there. I caught her, stealing two bottles of liquor from the grand prize bingo basket. She didn’t know that I saw her, and I didn’t want her to know that I caught her. So, the first time, I tip toed out, and quietly left, got in my car and drove away. So, Lois, the goody goody is really just a thief! And she judges everyone else, and runs to Father Henry to tattle.
Well, the next day I showed up for work, there was Lois… Big, fat, missing-a-few-toes, liquor-thief, Lois. She was sitting at the bingo caller’s table, spinning the hopper, just watching the little bingo balls jump around. I said to her, “Good Morning, Miss Lois.” She looked at me and did not speak, just kept spinning the bingo balls.
It is hard to tell why sometimes she decided to speak and sometimes not. After working there for a year, I stopped trying to figure her out or be nice.
Well, I came to work, months after I caught her stealing from the bingo winner’s basket. She was drunk… She had stolen some of the cheap communion wine that was delivered on the loading dock, and not yet blessed by Father Henry. She was so intoxicated, she was laying over the bingo caller’s table, her whole body slumped. She was snoring. Her shoes were missing from her teeny tiny pink feet. Her white stockings were strewn over the bingo hopper. Her little pudgy hands were each holding bingo balls. I have to tell you that never had I ever heard of someone getting so drunk that they passed out, while squeezing bingo/ping pong balls. It was like I had slipped into an alternate universe. The scene was like a cross between “The Trouble with Angels” and “Dark Shadows” – total freak show.
Well, Father Henry saw the open case of wine and wanted to know where the three missing bottles were. He came, almost marching into the bingo hall, almost shouting at me, questioning me about the missing wine. I did not want to rat out the nasty church lady, Lois, but I also did not want take the blame for her. So, I lied and said, “I am not sure. I don’t think I saw it.”
He looked over at the passed out Lois and he shook her, trying to wake her. She was so drunk, she could hardly speak. When he managed her to coherence, he asked her and that nasty, nasty Lois, without even having to think up a lie, pointed right at me and said, “She took it.” I gasped with disbelief. Father Henry turned to me, he was actually believing her, and said, “Well, Lisa, I expect you to make good on this; that wine costs six dollars a bottle; I am going to take twelve dollars out of your pay check.” I did not even try to tell him what REALLY happened. I just said, “Fine. I quit. You can keep ALL of my last paycheck.” And I walked out.
That was the last time I stepped foot in a church. I have friends that are pagans, and while I am not a practicing pagan, they have taught me more about being a good person, karma, and spirituality than that church lady and that priest. The pagans don’t judge anyone, and they live by thirteen rules, and they follow them. That Church lady was a liar and a thief. And that priest, Father Henry, so quick to judge me. Nope, I have not been in a church since that day. But I do like the Summer, Winger Solstice and Spring, Fall Equinox celebrations the pagans have; I think I will trade in my religion for spirituality.