The P.A.

A weekly address from Patrick Adams,
President of St. Louis Community Credit Union

On August 14th, 2017, posted in: Just Because, Uncategorized by

blank name tagI was speaking with a confidant the other day — i.e., someone you can confide in, someone you trust with secrets that, if leaked to the world, would embarrass you and your family for generations. In other words, this person knows stuff that no one else knows, like the time that…never mind.

Anyway, my confidant asked about my relationship with Mr. X (names have been protected for obvious reasons). I asked why. Well, according to my trusted compadre, Mr. X “hates my guts.” Here’s where it gets fun. I don’t even know Mr. X, except to have been at business functions with him on two different occasions. I shook his hand and said, “Hello.” I must have performed such gestures far from the cultural norm, because he now hates me. This has been festering with Mr. X for some time, given that both occurrences were some time ago.

Please join me in a belly laugh and a sense of sadness for Mr. X. Do you hate someone you don’t know? If you do, I’m sad for you, too. How is that even possible? And use of the word “hate” is pretty strong, don’t you think? It’s kind of what’s wrong (in part) with the world today. We either love or hate someone. Really?  How about those miles and miles and miles between love and hate called “like,” “don’t know,” “don’t understand,” “don’t condone their behavior,” “disagree,” “don’t share their beliefs,” “don’t respect,” or “different strokes for different folks.”

Nope, in a world where guns are the go-to to settle issues, and lawsuits seem like a good first step, “hate” is the choice of words used to describe a stranger. Just ponder that for a while. It should scare you.

I hadn’t even thought of Mr. X in forever, and now I can’t get him out of his mind — not because I care that someone hates me that doesn’t know me.  No, I’m saddened that one’s psyche is so off base that such nastiness graces the doorstep of his consciousness. What’s that all about? Oh well, I’m just thankful that I’m not victimized by the same level of vitriol for those in my sphere. Sad, very sad.

So I wake up and give thanks and enjoy every day. I tell my wife how much I love her and then run diagnostics on this aging body. With a thumbs up, I proceed to work where the sirens squeal, and the church bells ring, and the junk man pounds the fender. I try to make the workplace the best it can be for 175 employees.

I eat lunch at my desk and try to figure out how to help 54,000 members and millions of yet-to-be members (they just don’t know yet that they want to be) have a better life.  I answer the phone when it rings, answer the emails when they ding, say “Yes, ma’am” and ”Yes, sir,” generally don’t look to start trouble, and look to solve it when it finds me.

I love to have fun, embrace people’s differences and their quirks. I’ve cried with those who cry and laughed with those who laugh. I’ve been the butt of many a joke, and I LOVE IT. I sing the really bad songs from the 70s — whistle, too.

Sounds like someone to hate.

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