I've Got It All Backwards

Living in the city and working in the country is disorienting. It's all backwards. You're supposed to live in the country and work in the city, right? Driving to work in the dredge of slow traffic as you all join in the depressed comradery expressed by that barely-perceptible head nod. The type with the distinct difference between the nod that starts low and goes high, and the one that starts high and goes low. The former seems to say, "Hey. Welcome to the group. Nice to see you," but the high to low simply suggests "This sucks."

It's all high to low.

But I'm sailing past all of this comradery at 75mph in the opposite direction. It's no less depressing, though, and there's nobody with which to share the depression through that high to low nod of the head. I just get to be equally depressed at a higher rate of speed.

So woe is me; Stuck at a job in the country doing everything I can to make each local fully aware that not only do I not want to be spending nine hours a day in this town, but also that I have more refined tastes from living in the bigger, faster city.

Then I went to Stacy's.

Not that it was my choice, but in this job you go to lunch where everybody else goes, or you spend an hour alone. Today it was decided to patronize the gem of the cheap run-down establishments, Stacy's Buffet.

The building itself looks like a mixture of modular houses all parked in just the right position to provide shelter for a common feeding trough capable of providing enough grease for all of Southeast Ohio. The sign out front is nothing more than a banner with the restaurant's namesake tied to the original sign of whatever unlucky establishment last found itself unable to pay the bills. There's a covered porch stretching across the entire length of the building just like you'd see at Cracker Barrel, only this one isn't for decoration. It just is. In fact, nothing at Stacy's is for decoration. It's just stuff sitting where stuff ended up when somebody who last moved it decided to stop moving the it. There it sits. The tables and chairs are a collection of the area's not-so finest tables and chairs, yet if you look close enough long enough, you can find two that match.

The line to get into the buffet isn't long, but it does exist; solely at the oblivity of the long-since retired lady working the cash register.
One product.
One price.
$5.99 plus tax.
$6.41.
...All day long.

Nothing here moved fast, and this lady was no exception. I had exactly one hour to pay, eat, get back to my car, drive back to work, and slide in behind my desk. Time was of the essence.

The food was exactly as I expected. Delicious. I'm no connoisseur of food, and this place was right in line with my taste. Nothing special, just good home cooking. Yet as good as the food was, it didn't suprise me. What did suprise me were the people.

They were every where. Large groups of teenagers, older couples, white, black, Asian, all sharing tables. Here is where the town of Wilmington, Ohio eats. The entire town.

There was constant conversation loud enough to mask the clinking of plates and translucent plastic glasses, but quiet enough to engage in your own conversation. The place had a pulse, like the cafeteria in high school where friends took the only time they had to all be together to catch up on the days activities, and to refuel both physically and socially before seperating again for an afternoon of hard work. Everything was slower here, as if Stacy herself had discovered the secret of slowing down time to enjoy as much as you could, rather than my prison of working as hard as you could within the constraints of the clock.

There is nothing you can do. When you walk underneath the porch that just is, and stand in the line in front of the long-since retired lady repeating $6.41, $6.41, you've stepped out of time. It doesn't stop, it just doesn't matter.

Community thrived here, and it felt authentic to be a part of it. What mattered wasn't me, it wasn't my job, nor was it the other people. What mattered here were the relationships. Nobody was alone. This was a community at its foundation.

As I turned away from the buffet with my heaping plate of food, I got my first of the many head nods I would receive in that hour.

They all went low to high. Welcome.

As I stepped back into time, and worked my way back to my desk, I saw my to-do list filled with deadlines and work-driven priorities. And I realized...

I've Got It All Backwards.