Son of a Preacher Man

I have said "You're Preaching to the Converted" or have had it said to me at least twenty times this week. Conservatively. Whole lotta defensiveness. Posturing, even. What's going on?

One theory I have is that it's the fault of social media based communication. If you don't actually see me, hear me, talk to me, or come to my house you might not know details about me and you might say something silly, like, have you ever had a tamale? Not knowing that I've owned a Mexican restaurant and that I've been in Mexico more times than, well, most Mexicans I know. But that's just oversight. And maybe a little awkward.

In addition, if you're not clear with your written skills or your reading for comprehension skill you might use someone else's platform/wall/facebook page as the place to speak your peace which makes that person think you're telling them what's UP. And they know what's UP. You're organic? I'm so organic that my chickens are wearing hemp feathers! Don't tell me about organic! That's misguided and inappropriate but easily overlooked.

The Trade Show

Modern Manners and the professional barter. Why do I roll my eyes at the idea of trade? Was I brought up on the Art of the Deal and too much Trump in the 80s, where things were dollar for dollar and dog eat dog? It's exciting, a job well done and check in hand. I don't really want to give you my cow for that handful of beans. Where's the fun in that? And I usually end up missing my cow and hating the beans. You know?

Trade is having a slithery renaissance of sorts. I feel like it has always been around in my chosen careers (food/bar, events and writing are targets for tab runners) but it's nearly preferred as a means to commerce these days what with all the blather about the rotten economy. But until we're ALL doing the Trade Dance? It's awkward. Or you're not doing it right. Or you don't have anything I want. No offense, but I don't want for anything really. And if I do want something, I'll just go and buy it. With the money you owe me.