Fish Guts Attitude
I showed up for a haircut appointment and saw the barber holding a mirror at the back of the head of the guy in the chair, which you probably know signals he’s about done. I was surprised to see three people waiting: an elderly man with a walker, an elderly lady, two seats over from the man, and a younger man seated across from him. I took the open seat, nodded hello and said, “Y’all doing okay?”
The younger man introduced himself and exchanged the typical Texan pleasantries. The lady nodded and smiled, but the older man pursed his lips and loudly huffed, “It’ll be a lot better if she’d hurry up.”
The younger man said, “Now, Dad, we’ve only been here a few minutes.” The woman sighed and examined her shoes. About once a minute, the old man took turns grumbling that his son, his wife, and the barber were wasting his time. He was as impatient as coffee.
I looked at the walker and wanted to ask where exactly he thought he needed to be, but I kept quiet. The old man grumbled all over the floor. I noticed his red ballcap and wondered if a nod to the election might help his attitude, but he was one of those people whose attitude floats through a room like last week’s fish guts, so I stayed quiet.
After another minute, the old man said, “That’s enough—let’s get out of here,” and his family begged him to wait. This went back and forth several more rounds. In between salvos, the son glancing at me, embarrassed, and I smiled like I understood and wondered again where he needed to be. Sedated, came to mind.
When the guy in the chair got up, it occurred to me that we had one barber with one impending appointment—mine—and more than one customer waiting. Did I get my appointment wrong? I asked myself, Or is this guy about to go off when he finds out I’m next? I decided I’d let him go ahead of me as that was a sure way to make the world a better place in that moment. Given the few, wispy strays that were escaping from under his cap, I figured it’d take more time to get him in and out of the chair than it would to cut his hair—I was willing to wait an extra eight minutes.
The first guy paid, and the barber said that she had an appointment scheduled and pointed at me. She asked, “Did you book online?” which I thought was about as likely as the man doing ballet in the parking lot. After a huddle around his wife’s phone, everyone realized that the man did not have an appointment. No one was surprised but him, and no one seemed all that surprised when we he blamed the Internet, which he said he does not use.
His revelation caused the vibe in the barbershop to resemble one of those fail videos that one finds on the (useless) Internet. When the barber explained that she had no openings the rest of the day, Mr. Happy Pants said a few things his son and wife wished he had not said. He shuffled to the door where an icy blast proved his theory that the entire planetary system had aligned against him. The cold did have an awakening effect—he remembered that they had no car, which led to some more words, which I will leave to your imagination. Despite the barber’s offer to wait inside with a cup of something hot, the Attitude preferred the cold. He then became the most popular man in the barbershop by leaving.
The barber secured the drape over me while apologizing for the disturbance like any of us would do in such an awkward situation. And like any of us would also do, I told her not to worry about it. Then a thought struck me hard enough that I could not step over it.
“You know,” I said, “that old man might be in pain.”
“You think that’s why he was so mean?”
“Maybe he’s sad. I noticed his wife’s medic-alert bracelet said DNR. Maybe he’s trying to deal with a 60-year marriage that’s about over.”
I said something about Jonah—he’s been on my mind since our Pastor is doing a series on him. You may remember Jonah is the pouty prophet who was eaten by a fish, which might swallow up anyone’s attitude. Jonah, however, had an especially acute case of bad attitude even before the fish incident. The Bible says that “the LORD commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land” (2:10 BSB). That’s where I get the idea that Jonah had a fish guts attitude, not because he walked around dripping bile (the text doesn’t say). In fact, Jonah preached a one-sentence sermon, and a pagan city repented and turned to God. In that sense, he’s got to be one of the most successful prophet-preachers in history, but his attitude stay in full fail mode. I brough Jonah into our conversation and added, “I wonder if Jonah was in pain because the people of Ninevah harmed his family—the Assyrians were known for their brutality.”
For several minutes, the only sound was the clip of scissors, then she said, “My grandpa is mean like that. Maybe he’s in pain.”
I don’t know about you, but I’d rather meet Jesus face-to-face this afternoon than develop a Fish Guts Attitude, and I know what I’m saying because more than once I’ve allowed myself to hold an attitude that smelled as bad as anything Jonah or that old man could display. My old man is a troubled soul who needs to be put down like a rabid dog.
I don’t mean to lump old men in one grumpy demographic. Older men are to be sober, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, in love, and in steadfastness (Titus 2:2 BSB), and most of us (at least the old men I know) struggle to maintain a good attitude. The old men like to pull up their “old man” it seems.
The “old man” I’m referring to is the one Paul wrote about, the man before Jesus redeemed me. The old man before Christ was driven by selfish desires while the new man in Christ responds to the needs of others (Romans 6:6, Ephesians 4:22-24, Colossians 3:9-10). It’s not too big a stretch to imagine myself facing the end of a sixty-year-marriage someday, and it’s not a stretch at all to think that I might think more about the loss than the decades I gained from a wife who is more than a blessing. My attitude could get as sour as pickle juice unless I consider the needs of others and not merely my own (Philippians 2:4).
How’s your attitude, by the way?
