Today’s lesson is about irony. You may not know this, but back in the day there was actually two classes of writers. There was the ruling class, the brilliant and rich and noble writers, and their subalterns, the middle and lower class writers. Although the Upper Class Writers were more powerful than the Lower Class Writers, there were far few of them. This proved to be a rather large issue, and often times the Upper Class Writers had to prove to the Lower Class why they were in control, and why they were the superior writers.
So one day all the Upper Class Writers got together and they decided that it was time to end all the grumblings and the subordinate remarks the Lower Class Writers made. They knew they had to create something truly wonderful, something truly unique, to prove their greatness. They invented irony.
The next day the Upper Class Writers introduced the Lower Class Writers to the concept of irony in the Hall of Scribers. The Lower Class Writers listened very carefully, and when the presentation was over, one of them raised their hand and asked: “So irony is when something unexpected happens? Something that is contrary to the intent?”
“That is correct,” answered the Upper Class Writers.
The Lower Class Writers thought very carefully on this, but said nothing. The next day everyone gathered in the Hall of Scribers to, you guessed it, write. And the Lower Class Writers began utilizing irony in their stories. And they were doing it so marvelously that one would have thought they invented it! The Upper Class Writers were horrified, but what could they do? They had introduced this new idea! They had caused all of this wonderful writing which was not their own! Finally one of them stood up and shouted: “This is not at all what we had intended!”
Ironic, no?
I have been working at a photolab for the last year or so. The lab is part of a larger store that has various departments, from pharmacy to grocery to automotive. (No, it is not evil WalMart). Recently a young lady by the name of Laura joined our staff. Laura is a conservative Christian. She and I sometimes don’t see eye to eye. I’m a little bit less conservative than she is. The other day a rather attractive girl comes to use our machines and asks for my help. Now the first thing I notice about this girl is she’s a redhead. Beyond that, and a millisecond acknowledgement that she is attractive, I don’t give the whole encounter much thought. Though I do remark to Laura, after the girl leaves, that redheads are my only weakness.
“You know, there’s a book called Everyman’s Struggle, that’s about that,” Laura replies.
“Oh, one of those Christian books for teenagers on purity?” I ask.
“Not just teenagers. Men in general. How you’re supposed to fight that.”
“Well, there is a difference between glancing and looking,” I counter. “Glancing is okay. Men glance without even knowing it; it’s biological. Men like pretty things. Pull out a shiny nickel and my eye will automatically go to it. Now looking, actually taking time to reexamine and even think about the person in your mind, that’s wrong. That’s where that whole gauging out your eye thing comes to play.”
“Hm, you sound like you’re balancing on a thin wall.”
The phone rang. Someone needed help back in the media department, and for the moment we were covering that. I told the associate on the phone that I would be right down. I started out of the lab, but turned around and replied, “I only glance. Not look. I know that there’s a difference.”
I walk back to the media department and who should it be that needs help but the very same redhead! Ironic, no? She needs an MP3 player taken off the magnetic rack. She laughs and tells me she feels bad because I’m running a “one-man show.” I assure her its fine, and realize that I have to go back to the lab because I don’t have the magnet, I have the keys. So I go all the way back, and switch the keys for the magnet.
“Want to know something ironic?” I ask Laura as I put the magnet back in the cash register. “That redhead from before? She’s the one who needs help in the media department.” Laura just laughs as I turn around and go back.
I unlock the MP3 player for the redhead, and inform her that I either have to walk her to a register. “Sure. Can we just ring it up at the photo lab?” she asks.
“But of course…” I reply, smiling to myself.
Laura was smiling as well as the redhead and I approached the register. I rang her up. When she was gone, Laura didn’t’ wait a second before asking: “Well, did you look this time?”
“Nope,” I replied, “stared at my feet the whole time.”
Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?