i really fucking do.
i'm not complaining, at all. but thats a fact that you must keep in mind for the remainder of the post.
i work for a telecomm center.
the current project we're working on forces us to call around the US asking people to donate money for "Master Prophet E. Bernard Jordan"
yes. thats his title. master.
at first, the script starts pretty holy-like, asking for a testimony and blazeeee.
then it goes off to ask, "can you donate one weeks salary called, 'you cant beat God's giving' which represents 'the end of slave wages and the beginning of daily bread.'"
you gotta be fucking kidding.
one weeks salary? $300?
well what do you get for giving? a nice CD full of this man taking random guesses at shit and calling it prophesy. -_-
THEN, we go on to ask if they want to have a member of the prophetic circle speak to them personally...through a virtual prophesy room...for a small donation of 3000 dollars.
right.
and of course, there are several ways to counterattack someone who doesnt want to donate. almost to the point where it sounds like begging.
and people give. they really fucking cough up 300 dollars for this shit. 'resurrection season' or not three hundred dollars is a lot of money.
but a lot of people complain.
"nothing he said to me has come true."
"i didnt get my package"
"you keep calling me"
and my favorite
"tell the prophet that HE should sow into MY ministry so I can help the community, unlike HIM"
most of these people have no contact to this man, at all and still they idolize him. they believe him. they give their checks to this man (same man who plans on selling these same people $13000 tables at his birthday banquet. with $300 plates.) yeah. mhum.
i spoke with a lady today who said she saw the prophet in a dream while she was asleep under the knife. she thinks he saved her life. she cried to me and i wanted to scream, "you're being duped, lady."
i didnt.
instead, i did what i've been doing for the past two weeks, play minister.
i put on my best holy (or sexy) voice and "speak the word of the Lord."
and they listen.
people began to assume i was a prophet, and then, his son.
they began to pray for me.
one lady told me my prophesy.
do i believe in what she said? hardly.
but i do believe that i heard what i heard for a reason.
Anyone who knows me or has kept up with me knows that me and my God's relationship has grown. though, not enough for me to believe in this character.
after 40 hours of this nonsense, i began to feel bad for taking these people's money (someone really pledged to give three thousand dollars). my conscious began to nip at my soul
BUT
then i remembered the money.
so at the end of the day money > my own soul. smh. how sad am i?
