Wednesday, April 01, 2009

How I know I'm going to Hell

So, my office is in the "down town business district" of our weird little town. We have a variety of folks who pop in for a variety of reasons. Some are actually here for our business. Some are trying to find the DMV office three doors down. Others want to know when the out of business bakery next door is going to be open. And, we have the occasional "I need to use your bathroom" (no!!!) or the "can you spare some change" homeless people. We try to be nice without encouraging to the homeless people. We make polite conversation and then usher them out without actually giving them money.

Yesterday, one of our regular homeless people came in . . . . to check in . . . . and I noticed that she was sniffling and snorking and sounded terrible. I showed the appropriate level of southern care . . . and then, suggested she go home and get some rest.

It dawned on me as she left . . . I just told a homeless person to go home. Great. Hell bound for sure.

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