I'm no angel. Many times in my life I've had to acknowledge what a sorry existence I lead. One of the worst things I've ever been a part of happened in Orlando a few years ago. I was on a band trip and all of my friends were in the same group with me as we walked around Disney Land's Magic Kingdom. Our chaperone was the mother of one of my best friends, Leah. She had some knee problems, so as we entered the park, she rented a wheelchair. She didn't use it all of the time, only when her knees started to hurt from walking.
So whenever she would get up, occasionally venturing off on her own to get food or find a restroom, we were left with an empty wheelchair. Temptation struck. What was the point of carting around an empty wheelchair if SOMEONE wasn't going to at least ride in it? So we took turns pushing each other around. Well, at one point, we wanted to get in line for a ride, and as one of my friends was still seated in the wheelchair, when we went to get in line, an employee directed us to the front of the line. We were young, inconsiderate, selfish, and stupid, so our reactions were all pretty much the same: "Sweet!" We had discovered a way to avoid the two-hour wait in line. We had outsmarted the general public. We had power. So, of course, we had to abuse it. We spent the rest of the day cutting lines, taking turns sitting in the chair, thinking nothing of it. And we got away with it.
A couple years later, I told my mother this story, and she condemned me to Hell. I'm not proud of it.
More recently, a couple nights ago, I was working at my new job. I'm a USP at a local nursing home, which means that basically, I clean up after the residents. It was only my second night on the job, so I was training with another USP, Devon. He showed me the ropes, and took me around to all the rooms on our wing. A lot of the residents we saw he would talk to and goof around with. He knew them all pretty well. I was still kind of shy around everybody. It's just my nature. Sweet. Polite. Hardworking. No spontaneity. Devon was the complete opposite. There was one room he took me to, in a wing of the nursing home we call, "The Hilton," because it's the wing designated for the higher-paying residents. The lady he introduced me to was your typical sweet old lady, so I got a little confused when Devon started spouting off random lies and mild obscenities, some of which upset her. But she believed everything he told her! When we left her room, he explained that she was really very nice, but had a memory problem, and was as gullible as a two-year-old. He assured me that it wasn't a big deal, because she forgot everyone she met as soon as she met them. I could believe this, as he'd been working in her wing for several months and she treated him like a complete stranger. Interesting.
A few hours later, we were making our rounds again, and we came back to that same room. Before going in, he stopped me and said to pick a random profession for him. ? So, I said the first horrible thing that popped into my head: "Umm...Stripper." He smiled and said, "Okay, I'm a stripper. And you're the male vocalist of the year. Whatever you do, just stick with it, or she'll figure it out and get angry." I won't lie. I was curious, in a horrible, evil way, and I wanted to try. I don't like to lie, which was good because I didn't really have to. Once again, he did all the talking.
"Hey, there," he greeted her, taking a seat by her bed. Her face lit up.
"Oh, hello," she said. "Do I know you?"
"Um, yes, actually," he said. No lies yet. "I'm your brother."
"Oh," she said. "It's so good to see you. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you today, else I would have gone to the store to get some tea to put on."
"Oh, that's quite alright. Hey, listen. I just came to tell you I got a new job, stripping at the club on Main."
With a look of awkward horror, she replied, "Oh, well, you know I'm a Christian. I don't think I could ever come see you at such an evil place, but -"
"It's okay, but hey, I brought a friend of mine for you to meet."
She looked at me. "Hello, dear. What's your name."
"Beth," I lied.
Then he continued, "Beth is the male vocalist of the year."
"Oh, well that sounds very exciting. Do you travel much, Beth?"
I nodded. "Beth, here, is actually first and foremost a missionary. She goes all over the world, and she stopped in today just to see you."
"Where all have you been?"
"Africa," Devon answered. "She goes mostly to Africa."
"Oh, that's just wonderful! Do you know Mrs. Summerford?"
Nods.
"That's my cousin, Beth! Oh, please be sure to tell her I said "Hello.""
The conversation went on in this manner for a good fifteen minutes. I contributed very little, and eventually, we had to leave because I couldn't keep a straight face any longer. I laughed about the absurdity of our lies for the rest of the evening.
The next night, my conscience caught up with me. For some reason, I just felt really guilty for exploiting a poor old lady's blind trust in strangers. After, early in the evening, Devon got assaulted by one of the residents in the Northwest wing, where the more unstable residents are housed, I decided to take it as a sign, karma, if you will, and went to make amends. While he was filling out a resident violence report, a bruise shining brightly upon his right cheek, I sidled over to the Hilton and found the room where the gullible old lady lived. Just as the night before, she greeted me in the same cheerful manner. "Oh, hello. Do I know you?"
This time, I was honest. I gave her my real name, and sat and talked to the lady for a good fifteen minutes, as long as time would allow me. It was quite obvious that she was a little far-gone, and would occasionally address me with names of people I can only guess she knew very well once-upon-a-time.
