These friends who are supposed to be so loving, were pushing each other going through the door to try and be the first one to get the best seats.
At the racetrack just west of Chicago, the high rollers sat in the Gold Cup Room- plush chairs that swiveled and a nice table for every seat, more spread out and uncrowded, right in the center. When the JW's used the place for conventions, the parents and grandparents would have their teens push to the front of the pack at 8 AM and shove past the elderly to get to the Gold Cup Room.
Typically, when they got there, the attendants and volunteers that got in before 8 AM had already marked 75% of those seats for their families that had not arrived yet. They weren't allowed to save seats before 8 AM, but they didn't have to run up from the front door, so they casually marked their seats by 8:01. The big scramble was for the remaining 25%. Many teens would cut someone off bodily while their brother or sister got the seats.
It was a terrible example of what human beings are like. I didn't even want to be part of it, so I avoided the Gold Cup Room.
I always felt like I was bothering people.
I had that feeling too. Sometimes, I only overcame objections because the person I was out in service with would expect it of me.
It was all about the title.
Took me awhile to see that, but I eventually saw it at all levels.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts.