Dead Seriously.

The last post–about Paul Krugman getting an unexpected result from an audience poll–reminded me of an experience I had when I was a missionary that ranks #1–by a mile–on my list of most awkward moments.

The Background:
4 of us (all missionaries) had been invited to attend the 50th birthday party of a member of the local ward for reasons I’m still unsure of.* Despite having lived in this city for 5-6 months, none of the four of us had ever even met the man–he didn’t come out to meetings very often (err…ever), and he lived way out in the sticks.** In a momentary lack of judgment (and since it was a Saturday evening and we had nothing else planned) we decided to attend.

The Event:
Held in an old barn, which had been converted into a dancing hall. Lots of food and drinks, including some quasi-alcoholic cider, which I recall thinking was a bit odd for a shindig hosted by Mormons, even if most of the folks there weren’t LDS. Between 50-75 people were there, so there was plenty of handshaking, hugs, congratulations, and a little dancing to background music…and four missionaries standing at the back of the room, coming to the stark realization that they don’t know a single person there, and they’re dressed very conspicuously.*** For the next hour or two, we just tried desperately to act like we didn’t exist, since it was obvious that a) this was not the time nor the place for proselyting, b) we didn’t know anyone, and c) the next bus back to the city wasn’t coming for a long time.

The Moment:
After eating cake and a few presents were opened, the birthday-man’s wife strolled up to the microphone, whereupon she beckoned her blushing husband up to her side, and then proceeded to invite all those who would like to say a few words about her husband to come up and do so. (Now, if you know many Finns, you’re already thinking “Uh-Oh! Bad idea, lady!”) Then his wife leaves her husband standing beside the mic and returns to her seat.

See, the thing is, Finns don’t usually like to talk in public (and by “usually”, I really mean “ever”). So what happened? After about the third minute of silence, no one could even look up at him–all eyes were on dinner plates or shoes. After 10 minutes, even the shoes were getting awkward. By the time his wife threw in the towel on the worst-idea-ever, this poor guy–on his 50th birthday–endured 17 straight minutes of absolute silence, standing in a front of a room full of his associates who refused to say anything nice about him.

On the way home, the 4 of us debated whether we should have stood up and said something; the problem is, none of us even knew his first name.

*This sort of thing happens all the time in the Mormon world–the missionaries seem to get invitations to everything, whether its appropriate or not. Take, for another example, the fact that a bunch of them showed up at my wedding. Huh?
**In Finland, “way out in the sticks” is a reasonable approximation for “not in Helsinki.”
***The normal Mormon missionary garb: Suit, white shirt, tie, and a pair of ridiculously worn-out Doc Martens.