Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Church talkers should go straight to...

Maybe I'm obsessed with this, or maybe I can't think of anything else to blog about, but I'm going to blog about the church talkers who sat behind me on Sunday. Or did I sit in front of them?

We got there about two minutes early and I randomly picked out a row, about midway between the pulpit and the back. I thought that was pretty safe, and the other time I'd been to the ward it had been pretty silent and pleasant and we had been in about the same place.

I kind of listened to the conversation of the two guys behind me, talking about one guy's date and how it was okay, and they talked 'til like 3 in the morning, but she's too high maintenance. I'm not gonna lie - I eavesdropped like a bandit. Do bandits eavesdrop? Well, I was and now they do.

And then the meeting began.

And they kept talking.

And talking.

And talking.

Now, I can't say I'm not guilty of talking in church - who isn't? - but I NEVER hold an entire whispered conversation. I have held an entire note conversation, however.

So, there they went, going on and on about something (I could no longer hear intelligible words at this point), and I did the whole act of turning my head several times, looking at them surreptitiously every five minutes or so. I then turned around and said, "Shhhh," while I was smiling, trying to not come off as the quiet police but wanting them to be quiet and kind of not caring all the same.

Then, near the end of the meeting, with more and more anger bottling up inside of me, I snapped. Kind of.

I spun around, and, still trying to keep my cool, said, "Could you be quiet? It's kind of rude to talk right now." Then I smiled - but I'm sure it was rather strained and came out rather maniacal. I don't know that I would want to see what that smile looked like.

They gave me that look like, "Stay cool, sister." And resumed their conversation about five minutes later.

Here are the thoughts that went through my head:

"I wish they would be quiet."

"I shouldn't judge them, but they're kind of interrupting the whole meeting. Not the whole meeting - I'm exaggerating. But I'm sure they're bothering more people than just me."

"Maybe if I were more righteous I could ignore them and focus on the meeting."

"I need to have charity."

"I don't want them to think I'm the quiet police, but I'm not supposed to care what people think about me if I'm doing righteous things. But is it righteous to tell someone to be quiet? Is that charitable? Do I have charity for these talkers? No." *say a little prayer to be more charitable and have Heavenly Father forgive me for being so angry in church.

Dah.

Moral of the story? Sit in the front row.

3 comments:

Jessica :) said...

Amy, I loved this post! I could just see you and your facial expressions as you tried to shut them up ~nicely!~ and also as those thoughts were going through your head! This is probably one of my favorite posts! Lah you!

Unknown said...

Quite funny...I'm totally those guys though sometimes...not surprised? Two weeks ago Adam and I sat in outer darkness (the basketball court) because there was a missionary farewell. To me, sitting in the overflow means you can be naughty. This is where parents let their little chilren run around freely...why can't I be a little bad? Afterall, I can't see or hear a thing anyway. So Adam and I were childishly whispering and laughing. I honestly felt bad for whomever was behind me...but not bad enough to hush up. At the end of the meeting, who do I find is behind me but the great Cody Rogers. I'd been caught! Luckily he was being bad too and didn't even notice my irreverance. Sorry to those who are being good and reverant from those who just can't hack it sometimes. Better luck next week...to the both of us.

Miss Book Slut said...

Ah Barrus, how I miss thee. Awesome post and I couldn't agree with you any more. Why bother even attending if you just want to chat it up? Why can't they chat it up in the bathroom or parking lot, like respectable people such as myself do during Sunday School. Wait, did I just admit to that? Crap.