It was time for my PT check on Friday, which has remained in target range for months now. Go, me! Herm went with me to the doctor’s office. We arrived a few minutes early.
I always check out the magazines first, then I whine about the pitiful selection, and then I swear that I’m not going to forget to bring some of my old Southern Living magazines to scatter around the office on my next visit. I always forget.
I walked over to the magazines and started to peruse the titles when a 60-something woman approached Herm. Dressed conservatively, she wore a pink blazer, pink-flowered skirt, and pumps. I saw her give him a card and heard her assure him that Jesus loved him. Being the polite Southern boy that Herman is, he nodded and said, “Thank you.” Then she turned her attention to me.
She extended the same card to me and told me that Jesus loved me. I said no thank you to the card, and found a seat across the room from her. Really? How many cards does one family need?
Herm deserted me and went to the bathroom. After a few minutes, I chanced a surreptitious glance in her direction. Her stare was fixed on me. I feared it would bore a hole through my skull. She had that weird Jimmy-Swaggert-glazed-over expression that all fanatics wear.
Herman returned in time to see the water delivery. She got up from her seat and went to the water bottle and drew two cups of water. She took them to another couple. The wife was like Herm; she politely accepted the water and the man was like me. He refused, giving her a look that radiated leave-me-alone. She assured both of them that Jesus loved them. She then approached us with the remaining cup of water.
Having had some success with him, she first asked Herm if he wanted some water. This time he said, “No thank you.” Determined to save my soul, she took another shot at it and asked me if I would like a cup of water. In the same breath, she told me again that Jesus loved me. All of this was said with that very strange smile. Again, I declined her offering.
This was the conversation on the way home.
Herm ~ You were kind of blunt.
Me ~ All I did was say, “No thank you.”
Herm ~ …
Me ~ Look, I just think everyone should be able to believe what they believe. I hate proselytizing, and I really hate it when it’s done to a captive audience.
Herm ~ She was just a crazy, old lady, and you managed to out crazy her.
Me ~ Me? You’re the one who encouraged her to continue spreading the crazy around. You‘re the one who accepted that card, warning you to repent because the end is near.
Herm ~ She was just crazy! Harmless. (unlike you) (okay, he didn’t say unlike me, but he heavily implied it)
Me ~ She was proselytizing in a DOCTOR’S OFFICE for crying out loud – a place where people should mind their own business.
Herm ~ She was dressed fine.
Me ~ What?
Herm ~ I thought she was dressed okay.
Me ~ What are you talking about?
Herm ~ She didn’t look like a prostitute.
File this one under Hermisms.
–verb (used with object), verb (used without object), -ized, -iz·ing.
to convert or attempt to convert as a proselyte; recruit.