Please submit your mishie misbehaving sagas in the box below. Tell us the stories you were afraid to write home about.
Served in downtown Seoul for almost 2 years. I'll tell you what - the limiting factor to my 'obedience' was defiantly my companions. It always goes like this: When you are assigned a new companion, the first three weeks you work and work and nitpick about every rule so you don't make ripples too soon. Then after about 3 weeks, after the good start, you can start feeling around and seeing "Hey, what can I get away with." My #1 goal was to get through the two years, appreciate the Korean culture and be the best Korean Speaker I could be. I had a few companions that were real tight asses, and unfortunately getting sent home early wasn't worth it to me. I WISH I would have had more fun...but memorable rule breaking included...
1. "Creative" P-day rules. Officially, PDay ended at 5:30. Well, we were given 1 hour for lunch and 1 hour for dinner usually, so thats like 7:30. Then if we're supposted to be home by 9, then what's the point? YEAH ALL DAY PDAY!
2. Leaving the mission and enjoying traveling to nearby Theme Parks (There are two HUGE parks outside Seoul) with investigators and their families.
3. Taking the barges to various islands in the sea of China and enjoying the beautiful countryside. We had Cell phones, so "Hey ZL's, our home phone is disconnected and the Land Lady is working on it. Don't call us, we'll call you.."
4. One word. Naps.
5. Flirting like hell with a few 20 YO girls. Non-committal make-out sessions during 'english' class.
6. Refusing to use manipulative techniques to find investigators.
7. Running away with my apostate MTC Comp our last three days in the country and just traveling around, seeing things, and enjoying ourselves.
For example,I have heard stories of missionaires going surfing when they are supposed to be doing missionary work,or just spending time playing monopoly etc and falsely recording that time as spent doing tracting.
Why does a missionary bother to go on a mission to a far away country if he does not really care about making converts?Is it just family pressure to go on a mision?
Report from Brazil - by Some Young Guy
I served in Brazil in the 80's. If we didn't have any discussions scheduled after lunch, we went home and napped. I always shopped at record stores, watched TV at members houses, etc.
As a DL, me, my comp and the other two mishies in my city went to Midnight Mass on xmas eve and then had a barbeque at the other mishies house, and stayed up till 3 or 4 listening to xmas carol tapes when it was 85 degrees outside. Good times.
Report from France - by Stitcher
Served in France--did a fair amount of extracurricular traveling. Took a side trip to Cologn Germany--toured the city--checked out the porno shops. Went to Norther Belgium to Ghent and Brugges. Was "spotted" by the AP's going to movies downtown.
Stats? Fugettaboutit--fantasy stats keep you in good standing. Many of our "investigators" were college kids we met at a cafe (pub/bar). Laughed, talked and played "Flip--per" (pinball) and foosball.
Disconnected the doorbell of the apartment--that way the ZL's never found us home. Made friends with missionaries from the neighboring mission that shared our city.
Blatant? Mostly just to combat boredom
Playing pool once a week - by Cristina
Your question assumes missionaries who break some of the rules don't care about getting conversions. You may not understand how missions work if you make this mistaken assumption. In the mission field, missionaries are expected to deny their own basic physical and emotional needs to do missionary work, something that should not be required as no one goes on a mission to become depressed or broken down.
Consequently, many missionaries who are regulated 24 hours a day (when to wake, pray, eat, work, who to speak to, write to, what to read, what to deny yourself, tv, news, contact with family, etc.) find it necessary for their emotional and physical well being to break out of some of the rules and take time to nourish themselves. Denied of family contact, normal contact with the world, emotional support, and having to work longer hours than anyone does in a regular job, EVERY MISSIONARY reaches a point where they have to find ways, whether subtle or more obvious, to do things for their own well being that are contrary to the mission rules which deny they have any human needs.
Some missionaries escape for a while watching tv at the homes of members (members often recognize how missionaries suffer and try to help them find a safe place at their homes), going to the movies, the beach, etc.
For me, it was playing pool once a week at a pool hall next door to where the sisters and elders did their laundry every Monday. Saved my sanity. Another time we went out to play racquetball, went to the movies once, and spent Christmas day watching videos.
Deal with it.
I went to Taiwan - by Goldarn
It never even occurred to me not to go. It was just what I supposed to do next.
I didn't keep all the rules, although I did a pretty good job. I'd say I kept up pretty good with the "we're here and working, but we're not gung-ho idiots about it" crowd.
I'll always remember our mission president's talks. He'd been a missionary there 20 years before, and he would brag about how he still wore the same shirts, 'cause he didn't let his wife wash them. He even explained how to wash them by hand to keep them nice. I must've heard that story 20+ times. Half the mission could do impressions of him. "20 years! Same shirts!"
My favorite elder on my mission in Spain - by CA girl
left the mission boundaries and went up to Toledo to buy swords to take home. Now that takes guts to ditch the work, leave not just your zone but the whole entire mission to buy weapons. So when the sister in my ward talked last week about how her missionary son learned obedience because he broke a mission rule by not locking up his bike and the bike got stolen, I just laughed. That is what you call breaking the mission rules - not locking your bike? Give me a break - go buy weapons for crying out loud. If you are going to break the rules, break them for real. Go big or go home. ;)
Where do I begin? - by CosmoMcK
For starters, I called home a lot. That was the only thing that kept me sane. We used to hang out at members' houses and watch TV. Padded our stats. Stay out late, got busted at 1 am by the zone leaders, but they never told the MP. Flirted like an SOB. Left the mission boundaries a few times. Did P day things on any day we wanted. I also drank Coke, my own personal little rebellion, and everybody knew it.
Report from Oz - by Mon
We had a friend serving in Sydney, we were from Melbourne and when ever we were in Syd we would visit him, Im a girl and they were guys, so I think that breaks the rules. We would get food and eat at their place. We would just hang out. One night we broke into another companions flat and they trashed the joint. Well actually my friend and I supplied toilet rolls and flour, and they trashed it, really bad. He became an AP.
There are so many rules, everyone broke some of them - by alscai
But since we're just focusing on the blatant ones, we actually found a bowling alley (perhaps the only one in our mission) and we and another companionship went bowling and had burgers (again probably the only place for this) each P-day for a few times before the MP caught wind and quashed it. We talked about home, put 'money' on the games (play money), and, although we didn't do anything "bad," it felt decadent.
A mission truly will make you feel that harmless fun is sinful. It is the full cult experience.
Computer games by Kazzy
Yes to try to beat me at computergames.
The DoA state (can't remember which) champion tried beating me at Tekken. He got his butt kicked at that time by a blind woman.
Poor poor guy broke his mission rules to play a blind woman on a computergame and got beaten.
Constantly - by StMatthew
Snowmobiling, crosscountry skiing, hiking, sightseeing....that was all there was to do. The mission covered Alaska, British Columbia and the Yukon Territory. 4 time zones! When we were transferred we flew most of the time. District Leaders and Zone Leaders were hundreds of miles away from most Elders. We slept until 8am or 9am most mornings as itwas 20 below zero during the long dark winter months. Tracting was near impossible during the winter as folks did not want to open their doors and let the cold in let alone Mormon Missionaries. So..we hung out, watched TV ( we rented a TV if we could get reception..no cable back in the 1970's).Canadians and Alaskans were generous an we had dinner appts most nights. There were no rules about calling home back then so everyone called home collect almost weekly.
We had a sister with back problems who could not tract. - by Pixie Dust
She spent her mission hunched over a quilitng frame in the mishy apartment. LOL! Don't tell the MP.
Guatemala report - by texute
I was in Guatemala in the early eighties. The lack of news of the outside world drove me crazy--I was assigned to remote mountain "villages"--mostly just miles of hillside cornfields and occasional houses. Once when I assigned to the local "town," I had a companion who was amenable to a day trip to a city to the north of us--there were purportedly some nice ruins up there. One morning, under the guise of "power tracting," we left the apartment we shared with the zone leaders, and with our teaching supplies hidden in the apartment and backpacks instead filled with levis and local indian shirts, we hiked to the nearest bus stop (about 10 miles), stopping on the way to change clothes in a ditch. Caught the bus and travelled about 40 miles-impersonated European tourists around the town--ate lunch at a restaurant, toured the ruins, took lots of great pics (had to hide them, though), and picked up some great trinkets and some nice woven fabrics. Caught the bus back, retraced our steps, changed back into the street mish clothes, and made it back to the apartment just before sundown. The zone leaders were impressed with our dedication to searching out potential converts in the more remote regions of our area.... That companion was later a zone leader himself, but I heard later had opted out of the Morg...
Single woman report - by Ikki
Missionaries used to visit me, a single young woman, in my home, and if they had kept that rule that they cannot visit single women living alone I wouldn't be here today, and most likely I would be happier (the branch in my town was so small that there were no other members to accompany them to their visits to me). Because I lived just around the block from their apartment they would just stop over on the way home for a chat and something to eat. A few times I drove them out of town and even out of the mission boundaries to visit some nice towns and villages, but I must admit I was kind of scared we would get into an accident for breaking such a major rule. We used to sing out loud in the car, not to church music of course. We came back home safely and we had a lot of fun together.
So many rules - by Stray Mutt
And the leaders acted as if breaking any of them was a sin next to murder.
Some rules conflicted with others. For example, we were supposed to keep our suits and car spotlessly clean (as befitting servants of the Lord), but were stationed out in dirty, dusty, muddy rural areas. You step outside and, bing, you're dirty. But we were allotted only half a day a week for cleaning.
But the biggest rules we broke were when instead of trying to pound Mormonism into people we actually helped them instead. (This was back before the church added community service hours to missionary rules.) We gave rides, painted a house, chopped wood, dug potatoes, sheered sheep, castrated and branded calves, mowed wheat, shot a rabid dog... Those were the times I felt good about myself and what we were doing. Instead of being high-pressure salesmen we were being (gasp) Christian.
Oh HELL ya! - anon
I drank coffee on a lone transfer on a plane, went out of bounds to see London for a day, and, GASP, I listened to ABBA.
Travelled to 10 European countries - by Interpol006
Life for Mormon missionaries is generally very boring and young men and women need some outlet - some way to retain their sanity during this two-year period when most are simply trying to do their time.
During my mission in Europe I worked hard at times, baptizing more than most (unfortunately), but after a 60-plus hour week, I needed a break.
When I had like-minded companions (not that often), we travelled on the so-called "P-Day". I also travelled by myself a few times when my companion was away on a visa renewal or something like that.
I also saw a rock concert with one companion, got up routinely around 7:30 - 8 am, listened to soft rock and the news on my radio, and anything else to make me feel normal.
It was great to see places I'd always wanted to see - and kept me barely sane enough to carry on and be released "honourably", keeping my family happy.
I never regretted it - not at the time, not after my mission (during the short period I remained "active"), and certainly not now that I'm free (went inactive 20-plus years ago and resigned eight years ago).
I was a missionary long before the Internet and today's rapid communications. I feel sorry for those "serving" now and hope many of them realize the rules are a joke and break some of them.
Everyone broke the rules.... by Hotwaterblue
in some form or another.
Some of us were just smart enough, and worldly enough to not only not get caught, but put into leadership positions with a car (even more mischief) and better yet, 8 months in the Mission Home as the accountant and staff leader instead of tracting in the rain with absolutely no success, ever. I had a great time but it didn't have anything to do with teaching anything to anyone.
Movies (over 100) Entire afternoons in a bath house. Weekly card night (hearts) with another set of elders. Seldom if ever got up in time. Never learned all the discussions.
With one companion who would do absolutely nothing related to missionary work, we played golf, basketball, racketball, movies, anything not mission related. That was a fun 6 weeks. I brewed alcoholic rootbeer while in the Mission Home. Nobody knew the difference.
We acted at night like we were going tracting while in the mission home but we walked to downtown Edinburgh and just played around. For 8 months we did that. Funny thing, I was considered one of the stallwarts of the mission. go figure.
No, not me! Never...however... - by Merovea
How many of you gals out there had a missionary climb the face of the front of the misssion home to open the front door for them? Well, we had gone to watch the new year's celebration and had become seperated from the group...not intentionally! When the fellow missionary and I got back to the mission home, we realized that neither one of us had a key! I was very innocent, no really! Some years later, I told the story to my mission prez. I told him that had he known about it at the time he would have been quite upset. That dear man (I really loved him) just laughed and said "I probably would have!"
Now, about my DH, he served in a different mission. He and his comp fell on some "investigators" who wanted to "show" them the "real town of Cambridge" by dragging them to every pub in town! The investigators drunk the beer and DH and his comp drunk soft drinks! It conjured up for him some memory of all of those "pit stops"!
Nope, I tried hard, lived the rules, went AP and now regret it - by Jesus Smith
Wish I had broke the rules and really enjoyed myself in a foreign country rather than working hard and not seeing as much as I could have.
How life would be different....
Depends on what you mean by blatant - by Schweizerkind
I did a good deal more "pencil tracting" than actually using up shoe leather. And there was the happy period when my companion and I daily tracted out the miniature golf course in our area. And I read a good deal more Shakespeare than scripture. And there was the unauthorized outing to mount Rigi over New Years.
Report from Japan - by Truth Hurts
Well it sucks because the rules kept you from being normal and human. But most didn't adhere completely to them and if they did, they're walking Morbots still to this day.
My mission president in Japan was a 2nd Gen. Japanese and very insecure which helped me to see the disparities with the bureaucracy at a very young age. Unfortunately it took a lot longer for my TBM wife although she did come around once she allowed herself to 'witness' what was right smack in the middle of the archives.
Nope! I was as obedient as they came. - by Shane G
Look at me now. Can I please have those 2 years back?!
Not sure where to start - by Hopi Bon!
Never knocked doors. Never got up on time. Never read scriptures. Wouldn't teach the majority of the BS in the discussions. Compiled a collection of over 300 albums. Snorkeled countless times. Went to whatever movies I wanted. Made out a few times. Had unlimited funds so no life of poverty for me (thanks dad).
What's ridiculous is I served for a long time as AP. My Prez just wanted help running the joint. He didn't care if I was obedient. In most missions I would have been sent home.
I'm afraid I encouraged rule-breaking at my house - by JoAnn
Not BAD rule-breaking, as I was a new convert myself, but if I thought it was a stupid rule, I saw no reason to enforce it. For example, in my house, the mishies left the title of "Elder" at the door. At my house, they all had first names. "(Why NOT? I was old enough to be their MOTHER!!)
My mishies did not have a phone in their apt, so I have them the key to my house, which they used to make appts with and such. I told them if I found the occasional phone call to home on my bill, I would ignore it, so they got to talk to home more than others did.
They also had free run of the refrigerator and pantry. If they were hungry, they were free to help themselves. I made a point of keeping goodies and snacks around for them.
And on P-days, did we ever have fun! I never knew how many youngsters I would find in my my house on P-day - maybe two, maybe four, maybe six! We were all pretty poor, but we would pool our money, rent a couple of (reasonable) videos from a local video place, kick back, eat pizza and watch videos.
I remember one kid from New Zealand - a Maori - who sighed with a full tummy, stretched out my on floor, saying that "This feels just like being at home!!" Made my day!
I never snitched if they went home a bit late, either. I thought that their mission pres was a prick. He has since gone on to be something important.
They were good kids; they paid me back with yard work if I needed it, little cards and gifts over the years, and the joy of their company.
I didn't see any reason for them to be on duty 24/7, and they certainly weren't at my house!
It continued for the two years that I remained there, before relocating to another state. It started before I got baptized, but continued long after that.
I was the self-appointed and totally unofficial "foster mother to the mishies."
It helped me to get through a horrible time in my life and I loved those kids.
Nobody ever said anything to me about it (no "officials," anyway) so it never became an issue.
But then, nobody outside the circle of the mishies and me ever knew about the relatively minor infractions such as watching non-approved videos, occasionally staying up late to finish watching them, not having anybody over to teach, etc. Those things were our little secrets and nobody was stupid enough to snitch.
I don't think anybody knew they had a key to my house, either. I wasn't home during the day due to work, and the kids NEVER abused the privilege as far as I know. They had my permission to call home from time to time, so that was not a violation as I saw it. And they had permission to eat anything they wanted (and I took care to always have "kid-friendly" snacks on hand.)
I still stay in touch with some of them.
I recently sent one a card for his FORTIETH birthday! Imagine!
There was a kind of "We're all in this together!" mentality about it. We all knew that we were breaking some of the rules, but the rules we broke were stupid, trivial ones. The kids were not a bit worse off for having broken them.
Deciding not to obey somebody else's idiotic, anal, compulsive rules is simply a part of learning to think for yourself. Better now than later, in my opinion.
West Indies Mission. Breaking rules...where do I start - by Anon regular lurker
Put a bunch of horny young men in a warm place, with Women barely clothed, with ocean water that was clear, warm and turquiose and you have a for disaster! (Or fun in our case). THE mission president was hundreds of miles away on another island, and we had NO supervision. There were only 4 of us on the island, and we had no phone, so we had pretty much free reign to do whatever we wanted.
I routinely swam on all but 1 of the islands I was on, including Parasailing on one island. Went snorkeling on one island, and on the French side of ST. Maarten I even went to a nude beach. (Orient beach, for any of you who have been there)
One incident, my comp and I had a plan to take a ferry to another island on P Day. (Anguilla) We were going to play it up that we missed the last ferry for the day, and were going to sleep on the beach. We had mosquito nets, and what not. It was going to be great. What ended up happening was that my comp, went out into the ocean and stole a bunch of fish out of a fish trap that was off the beach we were hanging at. AFter a while we got confronted by a guy on the beach who wondered where we got them? He asked us if we hooked them or what? After my comp bullshitted our way out of it, we hopped on our bikes and wanted to get the hell out of there. We peddled as fast as we could, (we rented bikes to get to the beach we were at) When we got to the top of the hill, some guy comes racing up in a car all pissed. Turns out, this guy, the one who confronted us, was the owner of the trap, and had hopped in his car and found us half way back to the boat dock. He was PISSED and had the cops there. He was continually telling us that we were not leaving the island that night etc. After some more smooth talking we finally convinced everyone that some Rastafarian had sold us the fish and we were headed back to ST. Maarten where we lived. They let us go and we kept the fish. We actually did make it back to the boat dock in time for the last ferry and as I look back on this, it was lucky that we didn't get arrested! That would have been great, arrested in a country we weren't supposed to be in, not to mention we were out in the water etc! Only 1 other person that I know of knows about this story and can pin ME to it, so if your reading this, (LM) and this story sounds familiar, you probably know who I am.
Have many more stories, but you get the gist.
West Indies Mission '85-87 - by SoCal Apostate
I knew a ZL who came close to having the same story that you did, except that it was windsurfing instead of parasailing, and a traffic accident in a rental car on the wong island instead of pilfered fish.
I was too uptight to break the rules beyond the lazy underperforming thing that I did for the last several months.
The coolest thing ever to do on a mission... by cludgie
..is to get married. I didn't, of course, but it's a real problem in some African missions. I lived in Congo for a while, and all the missionaries in that mission are Africans, mostly from one of the Congos or from Cameroon, or generally some other African French speaking country. They won't put Americans or Europeans there because it's genuinely dangerous, but it's okay, you know, to dump on the poor Africans, because the church figures they don't know any better, anyway.
So many of these people go on their missions from homeless situations, or from living in a hut, and suddenly they have decent clothes, a passport, get to fly to Ghana for training, and come back and live in an apartment with stove and toilet. They also now have a small monthly stipend. The first thing they do is plug the toilet with garbage. Then, since they can aford it now, they send for their old girl friend and marry her at some church, with other missionaries helping and standing in for them. Then when the mission president finds out and angry, they're all like, "What?!" I think that qualifies as breaking mission rules.
I'll never forget sitting in a little one room house, teaching a family and having their little girl (about 3 years old) squat down on the floor in front of me and pee. It was a river of pee that ran right over my feet. No-body did anything or acted like anything was out of the ordinary. It was extremely hard for me to concentrate after that, given that I had sandals on at the time.
If I had a hammer - scutter
Berkley California, one of those houses rented by about 50 students. The guy that invites us in seems friendly enough. We sit on the couch and he is in one of those big armrest deep chairs across the room. On the floor in the middle of the room was a baseball bat and a claw-hammer head (no handle).
We didn't notice these things to much as it seemed to blend in with all the other clutter of the place. We're just getting into the discussion (and attempting to open with a prayer) when all of a sudden the guy throws both hands out and loudly says: "wait, wait ... wait!!" and then he falls down on his knees in the middle of the room picks up the baseball bat (one of the fat softball variety) and hits three blows with apparently all his might the hammer head that was still on the floor, afterwards he calmly sets the bat right back where it came from, he razes his hands behind his head and sits most his fingers up and shouts: "NINE POINT BUCK!!!" He gets back in his chair and says: "Okay, you can go on now."
We decided to forgo the prayer, but to continue on (hey, this IS Berkley after all). Sometime later in the short discussion the guy goes throught the exact same routine. We cut the discussion a tad bit short and excused ourselves outta there. I don't know wheather this guy was for real or not, but he was a GRADUATE student at Berkley. I was planning to go there (Physics) until I realized from my mission experience that my Utah boy mentality just wouldn't fit in. That was 1979 the year of the "revelation" that gawd no longer repected persons over others.
Mission President rakes me over the coals - mushinja
Being raked over the coals by the MP for not approving a baptism after interviewing the candidate and discovering that he had never heard of Joseph Smith, had no intentions of giving up cigarettes and alcohol (nor even knew that he was expected to), and hadn't read any of the Book of Mormon.
When I asked him why he had agreed to be baptized he said it was because the nice missionaries had begged so sincerely.
The words of the MP: "You have cost Elder Johnson (a particular favorite of the MP) a baptism, and denied that young man the gift of the Holy Ghost."
Recycled from funny sacrament - B.H.
The Bishop was a bit new to the church and wanted to get things going. The missionaries had just a bit more experience church wise, but we were hesitant to get in the middle because we didn't want to hurt the guy's feelings. He was trying some weird stuff though. The first thing I remember was that he reversed the order of the sacrament (water first, bread second). He said he wanted to shake things up a bit.
(In hindsight, this is all a big "who cares, whatever gets you through the day pal".) Next week went back to normal and we had a sigh of relief. (I wish I had kept these meeting programs.) Week 3 we get to church and there are two opening prayers and two closing prayers listed. We were like "What the H is going on?", but assumed it was a typo. Nope. He had decided that we needed "extra prayer power" and proceeded accordingly.
However, week 4 was the classic. We had an investigator coming and rushed to get a copy of the program for the week. All the speakers’ spots were blank. We figured he was throwing in some "extra testimony power" or something. Not quite. The sacrament ends and the Bish announces that today we were going to do something a little different. He holds up a bottle of consecrated oil and says, "The missionaries are going to come up and give blessings to everyone that wants one." People started marching up to the front.
There was no way I was giving an hour of blessings to the ward, so I went up to the front and whispered to the Bish that, "The Mission President has told us to let the local priesthood perform the ordinances." He says, "Oh yes, of course." He then proceeded accordingly. We called the MP that night and told him what was going on. Some stake leaders showed up and everything went back to the handbook after that. In hindsight, the call to the Mission President was the worst move I made on my mission. :)
Top ten of all time weird missionary experiences! - Q
I served in Tennessee back in 81 to 83. The MP sent me a Jr companion, a fellow Californian. He had been out nine months and in that time had nine companions. He was a big Hispanic guy.
Elder xxxx had a problem with contolling his "spirituality." When he prayed vocally he sounded like Billy Graham, which is kinda cool when I think about it now, since at least no one would ever fall asleep during his prayers like folks do during a typical 29 second mormon prayer. But that kind of praying did not go over well with the bland members of the ward we served.
He also spent a little too much time praying privately. Each morning he would spend, on average, two hours. The same went for evenings. When we went to a members home for dinner he would excuse himself before taking his first bite of food and go to their bathroom where he would kneel down and pray until everyone finished eating and it was time to go. That freaked out most of the members who had us over for dinner, and they told other members, and as a result we did not get invited to dinner.
Elder xxxx earned his ticket away from his previous companion when, on a trip to the hospital, he tried to raise a dead person in the hallway. Apparently the person had just died, and was being moved to another room. He caught wind of it and rushed to the stiff's side and began administering the priesthood. He called on the person to "rise from the dead" or something to that affect. He was unsuccessful. He was also escorted out of the hospital, and with that the MP decided to send him to the other side of the state where I was.
I took Elder xxxx to a members home who was stricken with some serious mental problems. Out of the blue, and off topic, he got up, stood behind her chair where she was sitting, placed his hands on her head, and began casting out the "evil spirits" that he thought possessed her. The lady's husband was NOT impressed, and we were asked to leave.
I let him drive our car, once. It was a stick shift. He tried to make a left turn across the median of a highway directly in the path of an oncoming truck. I pulled the emergency brake (which was in the center between the two seats) just in time to stop the car. The truck rolled by at a high speed, the driver honking his horn in anger. I could see the drivers face, and he was not happy.
I reported these happenings to the MP, and suggested that he find companion number 11 for Elder xxxx. The MP went one step further and sent me a plane ticket for Elder xxxx. The MP instructed me to pick up the zone leaders and take a ride to the airport. "Don't give the ticket to Elder xxxx," he said. "Just tell him he is getting transfered." Elder xxxx was a little concerned that his next area was so far away as he needed to fly there, but other than that he was cool with it. I gave the ticket to the lady at the airport and waved to Elder xxxx as he walked onto the plane.
Where to I start? - adrom
Where do I start? Looking back, it was one crazy episode after another. However, there are two that stand above the rest.
1. We had just baptized a family and the first testimony meeting after their baptism, the woman gets up and starts off with a "normal" testimony. Then, she freezes and starts shaking and her eyes close and she starts going off saying something like "Oh Jesus, SAVE me blessed Jesus, for I was a sinner. Oh God, you are all powerful." This spiritual orgasm goes on for nearly 5 minutes. She is crying, and shaking and yelling. She then sits down and calmly says to the congregation, before the next person gets up, "I almost spoke in tongues." Needless to say, I was speechless. Funny thing is, she saw the "truth" long before I did and left before my mission was even over. v 2. We get a call from the sister missionaries in a panic because their recent convert, a single woman, was convinced that demons possessed her and her house. We were called to come over and do an exorcism-err, I mean blessing on her and her home. So Im going over thinking, "I have NO idea what to do." We get there and she is shaking and babbling something about the devil and the sisters are scared out of their minds. I give her a rote blessing and alas, all seems to be well.
Well, Im sure there are more, but those are the two that jumped out of my mind. Im excited to hear more.
Convert loses it - racer
I think this takes the cake: Convert loses it and starts cussing out missionary at his baptism. (cussing)
It was not common to have 3 sets of missionaries attending the same ward in my mission. The church was not very big in my mission. and the ward boundries were spread pretty far. Anytime there was a baptism all the other missionaries would show up to support the new investigator at there baptism.
Anyways, the Sisters had a convert. I can't remember his name, but he was a really tall and big bald guy (300 lbs.) He was probably in his mid 50's and he looked like a hard ass.
Since the Sisters were not bestowed with the "magical" penishood powers, they had asked me to baptise the guy. I told them to let an Elder in another companionship in our ward baptise the guy. Elder "X" was going home in 2 weeks and had never baptised anyone before. I thought it would be cool to give him that opportunity and the Sisters agreed.
Fast forward to the baptism. The 2 go down into the font. Elder "X" was not centered very well in the font and the convert was a little too close to the inner corner of the font. Elder "X" says the baptism prayer and dunks the guy at lightning speed. However, the guy doesn't go down, he's too close to the corner and his head slams into the corner of the hard tile of the font. He lets out a loud howl. His head and shoulders are above the water. Instead of stopping, the missionary panics and shoves him all the way under the water. The wounded convert's head is scraping against the corner as he gurgles all the way down. This all happened so fast that Elder "X" did not have to redo the baptism thank goodness.
They arise out of the font. Elder "X's" face red with embarassment; the converts face red with anger. They both go into the changing room. This is where everyone kind of stands around and sings a hymn while they wait for the convert to dry off and change, so he can come back out at receive the HG. It was hard to sing because the convert was cursing out the missionary at the top of his lungs, and being in the tile lined changing room, the acoustics amplified his voice.
It went something like this: MY FUCKING HEAD!!! WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM YOU SON OF A BITCH!! YOU SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO THE WALL GODDAMMIT!!! I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO HOLD MY FUCKING BREATH ON THE WAY DOWN, AND YOU JUST KEPT SHOVING ME DOWN!! YOU'RE A DUMB ASS!! Elder "X" was apologizing profusely, but it was falling on deaf ears. Finally the Bishop and the Elder's Quorum Pres. went into the locker room to calm the guy down. 10 minutes later they come out and the convert (still red faced) apologizes to everyone for his temper, and Elder "X" looked like he wanted to cry and put as much distance between him and this guy as he could. Poor Elder "X"
Guatemala - runner
I think I could tell story after story.
I had only been in Guatemala for a couple of months, when this very big fat guy (who was married to a member) died. The next thing I know, I'm kneeling on the floor in front of him, the stench of cigarette smoke is oozing from his body. People are looking at me and waiting for me to pray over his body. "Hey! I thought that was the benefit of not holding the Priesthood!" I didn't think I had to do stuff like that. I would have had a hard time praying in English, but in Spanish! Finally, a lady in the ward gave the prayer.
Then there was the time my companion forgot to wear her missionary tag. We about got stoned to death by a group of angry women, who believed that American women were coming to still their children to harvest their organs.
Or how about the time I sprained my ankle and had to have pigs fat rubbed on by a pregnant women. It couldn't just be a pregnant women, it had to be a pregnant women, pregnant for the first time. huh?
I'll never forget the 3 legged pitbull!
Now that I'm thinking about it all, I actually have some good memories. There were some good honest loving people in Guatemala:)
Former pentecostal minister - adrom
I was in a small branch and the branch president-a former pentecostal minister-got up and said that he was going to change the way we held church. He had received a revelation that the sacrament prayers were too boring and they didnt glorify God the way he ought to be glorified. So starting that day, the prayers were going to change. Whoever said the sacrament prayers could make up whatever they wanted. Well, as a True Believing Mormon mishie, I freaked out and thought the branch had gone to hell and was in apostacy.
He also announced that we would no longer have speakers in Sac Mtg, but rather anyone could get up and teach us what the Lord revealed to them that week. My comp and I got home and called the MP immediately and he flipped out and drove up to where we were, had a meeting with the branch president and the next sunday it was business as usual. The branch president said that the MP had visited him and the time was not right for him to make his changes.
They were weathy - scutter
This was the first "couple" I'd ever taught on my mission and they were weathy (Gordy's wet dream). They lived on their yacht (as about 30% of the town did at that time). They we very "golden" as the saying goes and didn't require to much salesmanship on our part. They bought into the program 100% ... they attended church exactly once before their baptism. Early the next week we had to travel to Oakland (the mission home) and while we were there the mission commissary guy calls me over and says, "hey, I met one of your baptisms yesterday" ... It was this couple and they had driven to Oakland to buy 2 CASES of BofMs !!! Gad-zooks we were impressed. As soon as we drive back to our appartment in Larkspur (across the bay) we head on down to see what's up. ... The yacht was gone!!!! ... we asked the dock owner (a friend of ours) and it turns out they had notified them of their plans to end their lease when it ran out in a couple months (dock space in Saucilito is better than gold and passed down to children) ... that lease closer was moments before the couple sailed away. About a month later we got a letter and they had headed south on their "special calling from god" to spread the mormon cult around the world!!! That was the last I ever heard from them, but I wonder just how much of "mormonism" they pick up in their ONE visit to the church?!?!?
Lost my companion while tracting - Fallible
I was a greenie, had only been out a couple of weeks. As we would walk long distances I would be working on my discussions, trying to memorize them. We had to 'pass them off' by giving them word perfect. Sometimes we wouldn't say a word to each other for an half an hour or so.
We were walking along and I said something and when I didn't get a reply I looked up. No companion. I wandered up and down the street looking everywhere. Finally I headed back to our flat. Still no companion.
In full panic mode I called the mission home and the MP sent the AP's to pick me up. We went down to the local train station and lo and behold there was my companion waiting for a train.
He'd bought a ticket to go home. Since he was a local it was only a few hours by train to his home. The AP's gathered him up and we drove back to the mission home. There the MP had a long talk with him and then sent us back to our flat.
Apparently he was depressed and just wanted to go home to see his family and girl friend. Now, of course, I realize he had the right idea all along!
I fell in love. and many other stories - tigerbiter
1. There was the lady who invited us into her home and as soon as we walked in the door she started screaming and speaking in tongues, at one point even speaking in broken english, "now i a little girl, i six. Do you like i say? i speaka english perfect, god spirit fills me and i perfect talk english."
2. there was a mother in the same area who offered me one of her underage daughters for a "test drive." her exact words.
3. There was the 86 year old lady who was threated by her friend with a knife because I didn't visit her as often as I visited the 86 yo. These same ladies once grabbed me by the wrist (we're talking 80 plus years of intense hard labor in those little arms ,I was locked in and couldn't go anywhere) and started making sexual advances towards me and my companion. They were probably joking because they couldn't stop laughing once they let me go.
4. I once told an investigator that he could "vagina" his sins through the atonement of christ. and while helping a family do some farm work I mistakenly said, "I like fondling vagina's" instead of "I like pulling weeds" (there are two words for vagina, one is strikingly similar to the word "escape" the other is the same word just a tonal difference from "weeds" in a different dialect). And instead of saying "my back hurts" I told someone that "my penis hurts." This is what sucks about learning a language that has multiple meanings for the same word based on the tone of voice used to say it and it's context.
5. One of my companions (looked exactly like Edward Norton, just thinner and whinier) used to fill a big-gulp sized cup with water and would bring the thing down below his knees then throw it up so the water splashed on the ceiling of our apt and he'd yell at the top of his lungs, "WEE WEE WEEEEEE!" This same comp once, in a botched attempt to mess with the other missionaries in the apt, wiped pepper oil in his eyes and ran around the apt for 15 minutes crying and screaming, "elder tigerbiter elder tigerbiter... What do I do?" I calmly looked up from my language study and said, "i don't know, pray?"
6. I saw the longest nipple I've ever seen in my life, the sucker was about 2 inches long. We were teaching a discussion and the ladies little 4 yo grandson was crying and acting up like nothing else, so she whipped up her shirt pulled the kid over and stuck the long probiscus into his mouth, to this day I'm still amazed that a nipple could be so long.
7. My comp and I broke into the sisters apartment while they were out and changed their answering machine. Of course the only person who called them that night was the MP who promptly called us and reamed us for being in the sisters apartment. One of those same sisters would sit and stare, I mean STARE at me during SM. She'd be sitting about five rows up and would turn around and stare at me for about 5 minutes at a time till I'd excuse myself from the meeting. I was told later that a different sister in this same area had a dream that I was going to marry her, she came back after her mission after I was already married to someone different in the area and I got the distinct impression from the person telling me the story that she fully intended to make her dream come true, but was talked out of it by the person who told me the story.
8. our zone leaders woke up one day and walked out of their apartment to a a murdered guy on their door step.
9. One of the old ladies from above (not the 86 yo) used witch-craft to try and bewitch me into falling in love with her. It's a certain medicine they call "elephant medicine" you have it prepared by a witch (not the kind we think of in our westernized culture, more of the voodoo kind) and then you wipe it on the person you want to remember you forever. Not just the "oh I remember this person fondly" the kind of "oh my god I can't stop thinking about this person. I have to have her now." I was protected by the priesthood though and the stuff didn't work.
The proposition - toto
A investigator from Algeria asked my comp and I to become his wives and move to Algeria with him (we were in Switzerland at the time).
Being told by an angry transvestite that our church was a cult - Rubicon
I served my mission in New York so I saw lots of strange stuff. The wierdest was this old transvestite in a gay angry voice telling us our church was a cult. LOL!
One of my comps insisted on giving a blessing to an investigator's sick cat! - LabRat
Bad slip of the tongue - germany rm
In my very first 8th discussion (I think it was that - the baptismal challenge) I was so scared. I had worked on the memorization all week. (I felt like such a phoney giving memorized lessons and I was very bad at memorization) When it came time to ask him to be baptized I said, "Herr Braun" (the name in the lessons) instead of his own name. He looked at me stunned. I quickly covered myself by responding with a good little Mormon lie, "The last family we visited today was Braun and I just slipped." He said oh, I understand. Accepted the challenge, but his smart wife kept him out of the water.
I got 5 proposals in one week.
I got mistaken for a terrorist and had to sit in the police station all day worrying they were going to keep my papers and arrest me or deport me.
I got shot at.
I almost got caught in a huge riot.
I could not stop giggling teaching this really cute guy the lesson on chastity. After that lesson we turned him over to the elders. Waaayy too much energy there.
I was bitten by a wolf in Elko, NV - JJ
Chile, Osorno mission - Kentucky Transplant
Two quick stories of my mission the Chile, Osorno mission in the early 80’s.
1. I was originally called to serve in the Merida Mexico mission, but due to vista issues at the time I was re-assigned to Osorno Chile at the last minute. When I arrived the MP didn’t know what to do with us and after a few days decided to send me by bus to my first city. When I arrived no one was there to meet me and I had no way to contact my companion—no phone number, no address. So I waited until night fall on the street hoping someone would show up. Finally I decided “screw it- I will take a bus back to Osorno”. However there wasn’t a bus back until the next morning.
A Police officer finally came and told me I had to get off the street. After a long time under as street lamp with my English/Spanish dictionary I was finally able to tell him that I had no place to go—so he took me to a run down two story building and put me in a room there for the night. It was very place with faces peaking out from every door way. Later in my mission I found out that the police officer had put me up in a brothel for my first night.
2. I had be dreading my finally interview with my MP—the one where he tells the missionaries they are to go and get married. I sat in his office and he smiled and asked me what I had planned to do with my life. I looked at him and said “well, I have been thinking about it and have decided to become a pimp”. There was silence for about 2 minutes then he started to laugh and then I laughed as well. He then thanked me for my service and wished me a good life.
I have a funny missionary story that is too off-color to share with active church members. My first companion in the Italy, Milan, mission was saying the blessing before a meal at a member's house. He wanted to say, "Ti ringrazio per quest'occasione" which means, "I thank thee for this occasion." Being new to the Italian language, he said instead, "Ti ringrazio per questo cazzone." It sounds almost exactly the same, but actually means, "Thanks Lord, for my big dick."
Here is a story that was so humiliating (but ultimately humorous) that I blocked it from my memory until a year after returning from my mission. When I remembered it and recounted it to my father and brother while driving to the DC temple there was a great amount of loud laughter. We all laughed so hard that we shed tears. I have never tried to write this story down until now. I dont know if I can capture the humor correctly but here it goes. (The real fun has to wait till near the end but you need to read the whole thing to get it)
I was in charge of a group of six missionaries in a town in Japan and we were given the assignment by the MP to do something special in our respective areas for the up coming Christmas season to show the Japanese people the true meaning of Christmas. When I first heard this, the spirit produced a great vision in my mind. I realized that what we should do is take advantage of the fact that we seemed to command great respect from the Japanese people just because we were Americans. I figured we could get all the help we needed from local people. My vision was that I would produce a grand Christmas play at a local giant auditorium or convention center or something. I just knew that we could get real actors to volunteer and that the convention center time would be freely offered to us cool Americans.
The first step was to write the script of the play. The setting was to be a family at the dinner table talking about the real meaning of Christmas. As the father (played by me) told the children the story of Jesus birth, a play within a play would become visible behind them showing the shepherds, baby Jesus and angels and the whole bit.
I spent countless hours at some semi-investigators house listening to blues records while working on the script. They told me that my Japanese was very komakai, a compliment. I ate it up and was feeling pretty good.
Slowly we realized we would have to compromise many aspects of our grand scheme: The actors would have to be a 20 year old female member, two little kids (also members), and us missionaries! We practiced many times and it was tough---the kids were always crawling around under the table (a prop) and never could memorize their lines. The female Japanese member kept pointing out how unintelligible the missionarys Japanese was so we worked on our pronunciation with great intensity.
We also had to advertise and get a place to do the play. Our solution to advertising was to put an announcement in a certain community envelope that was to be passed around door to door (I forgot what this traditional form of communication was called). The place we finally got was through connections involving our part time teaching of English. It was the top floor of the biggest department store downtown. The Japanese guy that worked there and got us the English teaching gig there in the first place asked his boss (a big shot around town) if we could use this place for the play. The boss man consented and even had a huge fancy red sign made to hang up on the wall behind a makeshift stage. MERRY XMASS! It looked like it cost a bunch to have made--maybe $1000 or something.
Now the humiliation begins:
The night of the play, all of 3 people showed up: The big boss man, his underling and a single English student. We started the play, and when the little kids lines came around they pulled out little pieces of paper and began to read their lines. You could clearly here the pieces of paper rattling as they were shaking with nervousness. The Japanese woman was playing the mother and I played the father. She started to turn red with embarrassment and the two missionaries standing behind me, who were dressed in bathrobes (on top of suits) to look like shepherds, started to stifle laughter. I suddenly realized in one great flash of insight that we were fools and nothing could have been more amateurish than the spectacle we presented. I turned around at the two bathrobe clad missionaries and shot them an angry face while shaking my fist at them and mouthing the words shut up.
At one point the voice of God was to be piped in. We recorded the underling business dude I mentioned earlier on a small cassette recorder. Someone fumbled with the recorder and out came his voice sounding very squeaky, Japanese and about as godlike as Don Knotts. At this point outright open laughter emanated from the two missionaries in the bathrobes.
Now it turned out that I had badly miscalculated how long the play would take to execute. It took me forever to write the script but somehow it was over in 4 minutes or less. After it was over, I calmly ask the audience of three are there any questions? There wasnt.
The boss man walked out silently and the underling that talked him into this fiasco sported a look on his face that said I .. am .. fired.
We never spoke of it the rest of my mission.
I was out in the mission field (southern California) for about a month. My companion and I were at a members home and it was just this young couple, their VERY OLD Grandmother, my companion and me.
While we were eating dinner, the wife, who was a MASSIVE hottie, had...uh...well, let's just say one could see exactly where her nipples were under her blouse. It didn't seem all that cold in the room to me but, then again, I was wearing a friggin' suit.
She had MASSIVE rock tit going on there and she was sitting right across from me.
Being the typical dumb ass young missionary, and totally lacking in tact, I asked if the couple had been married in the temple. However, when I said it, it came out as, "So, did you two get married in the NIPPLE?"
Instantly, I tried to correct myself and stammered as I said, "Uh...Nimple. I mean TEMPLE!"
Too late. The damage was done. I turned BEET RED. So did the hottie young wife. My fucking companion sort of snickered a bit and so did the womans husband.
A FULL 30 seconds went by in which the man said something like, "Uh, yes. The Los Angeles Temple."
Then, when the normal color of my face returned and I thought this horrible incident was over, Grandma, who hadn't said more than two words during dinner, looks at me and said in a very loud I'm-hard-of-hearing-so-don't-mind-if-I-holler voice, (AND I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP) "Did you ask her about her NIPPLES?"
My companion, who was in the process of drinking his beverage, did an honest to gosh spit take and BUSTED into laughter. The poor womans husband laughed his ass off too. I turned so bright red that I thought I was going to pass out from lack of blood to the rest of my body. Grandma, ever so clueless, turned to the woman and said, "Did he just ask you about your nipples?"
My companion and the womans husband started laughing even harder.
The woman said, "I'm going to put on a sweater." Her hubby said, through fits of laughter that was making him cry, "So, Elder Norton, how long have you been on your mission?"
THAT only made my companion laugh even harder (which I didn't think was possible).
I have NEVER even come CLOSE to being that embarrassed in my entire life.
I live in the same apartment complex as the town's missionaries. One of my roommates is an extreamly hot redhead who is constantly getting hit on. well, the other night one of the elders fell asleep on our steps waiting for her to get home from work (she works at a strip club) and she got kinda freaked out. the next night i stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and he was wandering around barefoot and asked me when she got off work.
a few days later this elder seemed to forget about her as he and his companion baptised a girl of lose morals and they took up late night pool parties with this girl and her friends. they always try to invite my roommate to come with them though whenever they see her get off work.
Grissom choro (choro=elder) caught a large black rat that was eating all of our mugi (cracked wheat). He used an ingenious trap made from a iron pan, a laundry basket, and an up-side-down half empty whiskey bottle. He kept the rat in an old bird cage and fed it mugi so the rat was probably better off and safe from cats or other rats or other missionaries. Grissom choro named the rat Gordon, but he told me that it didn't really stand for anything. The ZL's said Grissom choro didn't have the Spirit, but you make the call.
Grissom choro practiced teaching the old Uniform Lessson Plan to the rat in Japanese. The rat seemed more interested in it than the Japanese people. Grisssom choro got the idea to use the rat in a bird cage in his door approaches. He tried the idea that we are all like the rat, trapped in our sins and that the gospel message would set us free. The Japanese house wives didn't want the rat set free. They didn't want the rat around their neat little houses at all.
Next, Grissomn choro claimed that the rat was especially intelligent and could do exotic tricks. This got us in a few doors and even got us a few free dinners. Worked better than any other approach I ever heard tried. But the rat really could not do any tricks and we had no idea how to teach it to do anything, since that topic was somehow overlooked in our training.
The rat got Grissom choro in trouble. Certain ladies on the street were fascinated by the rat. They believed Grissom choro when he testified that the rat could do tricks and they didn't seem to mind when it failed to perform, perhaps next time they always said. Grissom choro started trading sexual favors for watching the rat (not) do tricks. At first it was just a little kissing, but it got way out of control. I think the rat fascinated the other male customers at the little ryokans (hotels) where these delicate ladies of the street lived and worked.
Grissom choro got caught. (I didn't rat on him-ha ha). The ZL's came to visit us a day early. Grissom choro gave the rat to me just before he was sent home and told me to take good care of it. He was more concerned about the welfare of that rat than his own eternal damnation. Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his rat.
I threw the rat in the river. The rat was strong enough to swim even though trapped in the metal cage which was weighing him down. I took it as a sign that I could finish my mission in spite of not really believing in it anymore.
I was in the Ohio Cleveland Mission from Dec 79 to Oct 81. The Pres. was Joseph H. Young who was desperately running for GA. I was quite devoted and a hardcore believer. I really hated my mission too. Call me naive, but the politics and other bullshit was in stark contrast to my expectations of what I had been told would be the spiritual pinnacle/"best two years" of my life. I never felt any affinity for Pres. Young. As much as this would bug him, he was mostly just another average uninspiring frustrated wannabe GA with the right name/lineage but still not really going anywhere. The "engaging" thing about Joe was he had met his bride on his mission where she was serving also. Like so many other twisted things with the repressed morg members, it became a license for fishing off the company pier right in the field that is for many of the missionaries. There were a bunch of Elders who took brides from the mission. (These are the unusual stories because they didnt get married )
One companion I had, Grant R., was formally engaged to a 15 year old girl, Denise J., in the mission. The girl's mother, Diane, was fully aware of the arrangement. She had even encouraged and facilitated it. After becoming aware of the situation I talking with a former companion who had also been assigned with Grant. Some very simple math determined that Denise was 14 when the couple became engaged. This engagement was no secret and common knowledge. The mother (pathological) even bragged about it. Living vicariously through her daughter Diane couldn't wait for Denise to get a married. Diane was also divorcing Denise's father! I think Diane was hoping to bag an Elder of her own.
As if I would want to talk to them, I was frequently asked by Mission leaders to report current details and ongoings about the pair. As much as the engagement bugged me I never said much to leaders. One night the Stake was putting on the play MTOE. The Mishes could go. With Gestapoesc efficiency I was informed by the ZL's that it was going to be a date night for Grant and Denise. I was even laughably instructed to run interference as much as possible.... so the attending Mission Pres would not be embarrassed. Denise and Diane showed up. Grant ditched me, not that I tried to follow him, and he sat with them. Afterward in the parking lot she gave him a present and a little hug. Grant was all starry eyed as we left with our Gators. The thing I couldn't believe was the ravenous flock of Missionary's that was on this little girl as soon as Grant stepped away. She was loving it. Grant was love struck oblivious. I remained silent but wanted to say: I thought she was your woman?
I would be sending Grant home as he completed his mission, so one night of my own volition I asked Grant if he really wanted to get married just as soon as he got home. I asked if he ever thought about buying a car or truck or doing anything else for himself after a being on a mission before being saddled with a marriage. We talked a little bit. Grant said in essence "maybe" along with a lot of other common mindless Mormon importance of getting married/doing the Lord's will diatribe. On a pre departure shopping spree Grant bought an expensive pair of hiking boots. He told me it was more or less a concession to my line of thoughts the previous night. He also told Sister J. it would take a few weeks, perhaps months for him to raise the money to get married. Sister J threw a fit. Denise needed to get married right away! The new boots came up and ended up being a central point of financial contention. Grant escaped back to Idaho. The fighting continued. Grant never married Denise.
The young womens leader for that ward, Sophy C., had found her husband, Doug, when he was serving in Florida. She had the YW in that ward chasing the missionaries about as fast as they could go. They spent hours calling all around the mission talking to Elders. One YW, Terry W. met an Elder M. Davis over the phone. They talked for 4 hours and ended up site unseen engaged. Elder Davis didnt have bad features but he did have a head as big as a five gallon bucket with a huge face. There were tons of freckles and bright red hair that stuck straight up. In a photo your eyes would naturally gravitate straight to his likeness and you would be compelled to ask who he was. The couples plan was for Elder Davis to deliver a ring at stake conference. The word was out. The Elder bought a ring. The big day came and the poor girl almost died when she saw her new fiancée. Terry took the ring but followed up by doing every thing she could to cool off and wind down the relationship. The engagement lasted almost a year before she could get it ended. To her chagrin the questions lasted much longer.
All the stress of my mission and my faulty belief system finally caught up with me. I was very ill. I ended up in the Hospital and then went home early. I was in the mission home the night before flying home. Saying I was exhausted is extreme understatement. I just wanted to get the HELL out of there. At midnight I got a call. It was Sophy. She asked me if I would like to marry one of the YW in her class. How the Hell do you respond to something like that? I said I had no general plans to get married let alone any specific plans to get married. I just needed time to get better.
It was unbelievable. This YW/girl had made a career of getting Elders in trouble. One of her favorite tactics which I had experienced first hand was breaking into Mish apartments and trashing them for attention. She helped get one Elder I knew sent home. Unfortunately a man I baptized and stayed in touch with ended up marrying this girls sister. It turned out to be pure agonizing Hell. ( I waited 5 more years to marry and still faired no better.) At least now hes out of the Morg! I laugh my ass off when Morgs start talking about how a mission is tithing on the first 20 years a young mans life. I am forty now. I wonder if they are ready to send me out again. It wont be anything like the last time!
I have procrastinated the decision to serve a mission until after college graduation. I ran across an old girlfriend who recently returned from a different kind of mission. She is a successful Peace Corp volunteer and after a lengthy discussion (prior to a make-out session) we came up with a list of advantages that service in the Peace Corp has over the Mormon mission experience.
1. The U.S. government pays the rent and food instead of your parents. You live at about the same standard of living on the local economy. You also get a few thousand dollars to get you started when you return.
2. Peace Corp gives you 3 weeks vacation each year and they encourage you to have your family come and visit you during this time and tour the country. Missionaries no vacation time and have to wait until the end to show their families the fruits of their labors.
3. Health insurance extends 18 months after the completion of service for Peace Corp volunteer. This can be critical if you have contracted any diseases, have trouble finding a job, or if you are a Senior volunteer on Medicare.
4. Peace Corp volunteers have enormous input into the geographic location of their mission. Of course the Peace Corp has definite limits but within them you have quite a bit of choice.
5. The Peace Corp has an tremendous diversity of opportunities to serve. Some volunteers teach, others build. Some work on environmental projects, other in health care, or agriculture. The only limit is your imagination. Missionaries are going to tract door to door most of the time and do what the mission president wants them to do.
6. Better language preparation. They tell you months in advance where you are going so you have time to take a college course and their LTM equivalent is 3 months. So the typical Peace Corp volunteer is about 2-4 months ahead of the typical missionary language-wise, eliminating the painful "greenbean" stage.
7. More flexible on the lengh of time to serve. You can stay 18 months, 2 years or three years or anything between and there is no shame going home early after about a year. This flexibility can really make a difference getting particular job.
8. Rare transfers. Most Peace Corp volunteers stay put in one place and work on one project the entire time, at the most two very rarely three places. And transfers are only done when you need them not when the mission president thinks you need to be moved.
9. Less hierarchial with more of a team approach. The Peace Corp is not rank oriented and individual independence is stressed. You have a supervisor but they are there to help you not boss you around and tattle to the mission president. There are no middle level supervisors like ZL's.
10. No obnoxous companion tagging you around day and night, unless you are married and go with your spouse. Often Peace Corp volunteers work entirely apart from any other Americans although in some of the more dangerous countries they are being asigned in small groups of 3 or 4 for safety reasons.
11. Fewer rules. You determine when to get up and when to go to bed, when to study, when to rest, when to serve and when to eat. You are not going to hell if you sleep past 6:01 am on P-Day.
12. No weekly reports where you have to account for every minute of every day. They keep track of you but do not drive you like the mission does.
13. College graduates only are accepted, with some exception for those with similar training from life experiences. You won't have to put up with High School grads from rural Utah with all their provincialism and cluelessness. There is some tendency for the Peace Corp to attract the hippie types but they have to be pretty dedicated to make it.
14. More women volunteers. The Peace Corp is about 60-40% male to female ratio. The Mormon missionaries are running about 90-10% male to female ratio.
15. All assignments are in poor third world countries where there is a real need. There are no Peace Corp volunteers in cushy places like Hawaii or Japan. There are no English speaking assignments. Most are in places like Africa or Mongolia. It is not easy.
16. This is perhaps the most significant difference. The Peace Corp volunteer is doing something that the host country requested to be done. The missionary is try to get people to do something that they do not generally want to do, convert religions. So there is very little rejection and reason to become discouraged or distracted.
Disadvantages include: Less religious atmosphere although you can make it as religious as you want. If you want to pray 15 times a day that is fine as long as you get the other important tasks done.
Seems like to me that if you want to go on a real mission the Peace Corp mhas the Mormon mission experience beaten hands down. And ther are many other service opportunites that we have not even considered. Why anyone would ever want to submit to a Mormon mission is beyond me.
I'm too sexy for my Angel Tights...
My mission in Porto Alegre, Brazil (1980-82) was filled with intense moments of sexual discovery and obsession.
Three-quarters of my companions (all native Brazilians) were Gay or Bi - and of course, I too "suffer from SSA" (same sex attraction) - snort! That made for some intense companionship dynamics, let me tell you!
I have always been very butch and can pass pretty easily, so femme-guys at that point in my life made me uncomfortable (afraid they'd blow me...I mean my cover). My feyest, flamiest companion was Elder C., who was a tall, extremely skinny guy who seemed to keep his elbows locked to his hips but let those wrists and hands flutter all over like a hummingbird! He was a professional figure skater from Brasilia who wore a woman's wrist watch and wrote all his correspondence on Holly Hobby letterhead (which cracks me up now but back then mortified me!) He was Totally Out too (Brazilians have a totally different attitude to sex and sexuality than uptight Mormon-Aryans) and spared no opportunity recounting for me sordid tales of his highschool sexcapades.
Another companion and I (this one pretty butch) almost Did The Deed. He was this super-studly Japanese-Brazilian ju-jitso Queen with six-pack abs that could send me hying to Kolob! After a hot, humid day of proselyting, we would go home and then give each other "backrubs" that soon turned into full-body massages. At first fully dressed, then as the days and weeks went by, more and more clothes came off. Eventually, one day were were both naked, in bed, and chubbed-out as can be, and I couldn't take it anymore and told him to stop. He jumped up all freaking out and totally in denial about what we were about to do (naked, in bed, hard as temple granite) yelled, "What did you think we were going to do??!! NOTHING!!" Sure Elder. Whatever. He threw on his clothes and ran to the local phone booth to call His Highniness, Prez Queiroz. Fortunately he wasn't the asshole I feared. He told His Lardship that a girl in the area was pursuing him and he needed to be transferred out! He came home, got his stuff and left on the next train.
Thank you Baby Cheezwhiz, because the next Elder who came to replace him was my Total Brazilian Dream Hunk, Elder A. Three-quarters Italian, one quarter African, and sexier than Ricky Martin on Prom Night. Bisexual too! Whew. A week into our companionship and I was at the hospital with blue balls because I'd had an erection for 3 "straight" days, walking around with Elder "Fabio". The doctor commanded the Prez to let me masturbate once a week, or I'd become sterile. So I received an official dispensation from Queiroz to spank the bishop, but ONLY once a week and ONLY for health purposes. Wink, wink.
We also had a mission rule about movies: we could see ANY American made movie we wanted on P-Days. Queiroz, a Brazilian, was so desenstitized by the graphic sexuality of the Brazilian movie industry that any movie coming out of Hollywood seemed G rated to him. So over the course of my mission, I saw over 150 movies. Including several R ones! Went to see "Blue Lagoon" when it came out and I juiced myself in the theatre at the sight of Christopher Atkins wanking on the cliff top. I didn't even touch myself! So I didn't count it as one my weekly allowable sessions....I'm not stupid, you know!
There was a missionary shack in Alegrete, Brazil that was a duplex, and a newlywed (non-Morg) couple shared the other half. Well there was a large knot-hole in the wooden wall that seperated the two households, and wouldn't you know it, but the knot-hole was right over their bed! So it became quite the district activity to head to Elder S.'s pad for popcorn and a show in the evening. This couple certainly knew the missionaries were watching them and totally got off on it. I confess I did watch once and acted appropriately horrified at seeing doggy-style for the first time - not because it was sex but because I did NOT appreciate watching a straight couple, which kinda grossed me out at the time (I have become more accepting of heterosex since then).
My way of getting the missionaries in:
In the LDS there is a constant problem with inactives, who never let missionaries in and with lack of interest in missionaries in general amongst the public.
I suggest a new approach.
Drop the suits. Get the missionaries to wear work clothes or dungarees.
The missionary comes to the door in dungarees, flashes their badge, and says "I've come to give you a reading."
The homeowner thinks that they've come to read the meter, and lets them in (they don't recognise the missionary because they don't go to church)... Et voila, Mormon missionary in your house to give you a "reading". Of course they don't mention that the reading is from the Book of Mormon, not from your electricity meter.
I think this would be very successful, unless the family owned shotguns.
Getting the missionaries in is half the battle, they don't listen to what you actually have to say anyway... - 08/10/2003 - from Nephihaha
In my ward when I was about 17 we had two elders, both clean pure Utah boys, who would come over to teach my auntie the discussions. They would always ask me to be there as they felt it had a 'special spirit'. They gradually spent more and more time there and in the end were just popping round to my place. On Christmas Eve the Elders came around for dinner with myself and a few friends of mine ( all members ) and once most of them had gone home, my self and my, at the time engaged, friend were almost pounced upon by these horny elders, not that we minded at all. But they were like animals, I suppose it comes of being a 20 year old virgin at your sexual peak. We always seemed to get the horny elders, there was one time when I walked into my moms living room and hugged her, hugged my grandma, hugged my sister and was promptly grabbed by a rather amourus elder who hugged me much to his 'rising' if you the drift. - 05/02/2003 - anon
Ten years after I served in Japanese Mission I was back in another part of the country, newly out of the closet and looking for love. Through a website that hooks-up American and Japanese guys I ended up meeting a Japanese guy my age. He was an acupressure therapist and the foreplay was basically him giving an incredible pressure point massage that segued beautifully into a hot night together. The next time we got together we got comfortable and started to do at little more 'find out'. I told him how I lived in a city in another part of the country and it came out that it was while I was a missionary. His jaw dropped as he confessed that he had been in the same Mission at the very same time, but since we had not exchanged last names until this point niether of us realized it.
It turns out we never formally met but had attended many of the same conferences, and while I was an office Elder I had probably spoken to him on the phone...we definately remebered each others names, and spent the next several hours telling stories and talking about mutual companions and members we both knew. Well, needless to say we were not really in the mood for a repeat of our previous steamy encounter after that (we had a very strict Mission President and just the mention of his name could kill the general mood for days...). Haven't seen or heard from him since, I guess we had way too much in common...
A Jim Jones was my Mission Companion in Japan at the time all the Jim Jones stuff was hitting the news. It was funny as hell when we went tracking in Japan to intro Elder Jim Jones. Many frighened Japanese slammed the door and one even called the Cops!
I would like to thank the Mormon church for giving me the social tools and opportunity necessary for the best year of sowing wild oats of my entire life. I grew up in a Mormon family but didn't much want to serve a mission. I lacked the back bone to stand up to my family and the Bishop. I was scared enough to piss my pants when I got The Call to Japan. The MTC and the first year were pure hell. I didn't know what was going on and the constant pressure and deception and pretending was almost more than I could bear. The second year went better when I was Senior companion generally with a clueless and obedient Junior. I lied shamelessly to my leaders and started to study the Japanese language for about 10 hours a day instead of harassing people. By the time I went home I was spending most of my time flirting with young girls and having a good time. I was basically dating several of them and was close to the point of trying to kiss one of them.
I almost immediately got a job that required me to return to Japan to teach English. I worked hard every day of the week from Tuesday to Saturday and they warned us not to get involved with our students romantically. The first weekend I got on a train Saturday night and went in a random direction for many hours. I slept on the street and using a directory of all Mormon churches in Japan, I was able to find the closest branch in whatever city I happened to land in. I went to Sunday meetings there and some of the girls invited me on a picnic with them afterwords. I easily ended up in bed (futon actually) with one of them and I had Monday to get back to where I worked. I repeated this pattern every weekend or some minor variation of it, and without fail and with little effort I bagged a different beautiful girl every week for over a year. Japanese girls are so passive and easy to seduce once you get past their initial wall of reserve. Being a fellow member of the church and a ret! urned missionary immediately got me past their defences. Once they let you kiss them, they just melt and put up no resistance to any further advances.
I tried not to hit the same general area too often and with 10 missions in Japan that was easy. But once or twice I ran into a missionary that had been transferred from one place to another. I don't know what happened to these girls, if they ever told anyone or left the church or what. I wonder if most of them didn't join the church with the hope that some American would eventually get involved with them. I know that at the time most Japanese women believed that birth control pills were bad for their health. Abortions were legal and often used but socially it was considered murder and women often went secretly to a Buddist temple to pray for the soul of their aborted baby. I never got a social disease from these clean and pure Japanese Mormon girls either.
I think that quite a few men go through a phase, like I did when the physical aspects of sex far outweigh any desire for emotional attachment. And they are lucky if they can find an avenue to express these desires. But thanks to the Mormon mission experience I was blessed to a degree unimagineable and then able to walk away from the situation with little risk of ever running into these girls ever again.
Editors Note: Regarding the term "Seiko Choro", this is meant to be a clever play on words. Phonetically "seiko" in Japanese can mean both "success" and "sex". It seems that in this case they are calling themself "Elder Sex".
I (non-Mormon) lived in Japan for many years and have witnessed a number of former Missionaries who use their polished Japanese skills to constantly hit on Japanese women. - 11/24/2002 by anonymous non-Mormon
I (non-Mormon) lived in Japan for many years and have witnessed a number of former Missionaries who use their polished Japanese skills to constantly hit on Japanese women. - 11/24/2002 by anonymous non-Mormon
I live in the DC area and I was up one Saturday morning in my house enjoying a morning alone, when the door bell rang and then I heard a knock on the door. There were two girls knocking on the door to invite me to church or what ever you guys do. One was HOT the other was definatly NOT. I had shaving cream on half my face. So, I told them not to leave. I came back to the door and I totally remembered hotties name but not the other girls name. I normally don't talk to you guys but she had my attention. She wouldn't give me her number but I gave her my number (on accident) of course and she called like 2 days later. We laughed a lot together but we didn't talk long she had to go. She called another time and said she couldn't talk long but she wanted to meet me and it had to be a certain day. I totally agreed but I thought she was going to show up with ugly but she didn't. We went to a movie and she told me she always wanted to do something and she went "downtown" during the movi! e. I felt so used when she never called back again and I never saw her again. I think I'm still in love after 4 years. : ) - 11/07/2002 - anon
A couple years ago we lived in a "seedy" neighborhood and next door lived a couple of single mothers who's children had come from various "sources".
We would see the 'mishies' being good little boys in town during the day, doing their tracting and the like. Generally attempting to make a good impression
However, the boys spent their evenings with the welfare moms trying to score some good "depression". 10/27/2002 - from Cannon
I could go on and on about misbehaving missionaries. I was an office Elder for a mission in Brazil for 9 months and I saw and heard a lot of stuff. One of the worst was an American Elder who has sex with the stake president's wife and was sent home. No more American missionaries in that stake for the rest of my tenure. We had about 1 missionary a month leave for fornication during my 9 months in the office and I had the privilege to take them to the airport. I remember teaching a discussion to a 9 old boy whose parents were members and sealed in the temple (I guess with 3 excommunicated bishops in that area they had little direction) about the law of chastity and wearing modest clothing. Anyway, soon as I said that, his 2 teenage sisters (members) walked through the living room during the discussion in traditional Brazilian bikinis. My greenie comp fresh from the MTC is about dying and I feel the burning in the bosom (well, actually a little lower). In that area, the wa! rd mission leader wanted to pimp his daughter off to me so she could have a better (running water, etc.) life in the U.S. Of course, she was only 14. I'd love to hear more stories of South American missionaries.
I was a teacher and in the Branch Presidency at the MTC. One of my assignments was to teach groups of missionaries who had trouble getting their visas. It was always sad to hear them bear their testimony that they just KNEW God was sending them to Venezuala as part of some vast eternal plan and how their mission was the best in the world....only to find out that they couldn't get a visa and were being reassigned to the Toronto Canada Spanish Speaking Mission. Funny how they didn't KNOW that part of the story.
Anyway....one particular Elder was the only one in his district that did not get a visa so he was re-assigned to another pair of missionaries as the third companion. A few weeks later the original two came to tell me that their new companion kept disappearing. He would say he was going to the bathroom and not come back for an hour or more. It was pretty much general knowledge that his girl-friend was hanging around the building and that she brought him care packages. I told the two to keep an eye on the guy and to follow him. Turns out that he and the girl friend were hooking up. BUT....what makes the story really funny was that they had applied for the visa as a couple and that she intended to go with him to South America. When President Pinegar found out about it he had both of them come to his office. They tried to convince him that they should be married and then go as couple missionaries. Pinegar blew a gasket and could be heard yelling all through the building.
When I was a Mormon missionary many years ago I really had a
struggle with my testimony and at the same time I could not control my lustful
thoughts. Every time I saw a hot young Latino girl I would imagine what it would
be like screwing her. I assumed there must be a connection between these two
conflicts and so I devised a sort of elaborate reverse spiritual test.
I sneeked out one night and got on a bus alone. I determined to pick out the first three girls that I saw and secretly give them each a number. Then I would roll a pair of dice and if both dice came up with the same one of the three numbers, I would immediately go over to her and ask her to have sex with me. If she agreed it would prove, what? At the time according to my twisted thinking, it would prove that the devil is real and powerful enough to affect the roll of a pair of dice. And since he would do anything to bring a missionary down, it would prove that we missionaries were special and therefore the church was true. I could back out at any time. If nothing happened then I would go back to the apartment and quit my mission the next day.
As I got on the bus I noticed these three young ladies talking and giggling to each other. They were immodestly dressed and seemed more than a bit tipsy. The first one had a real nice ass and the second one was blond and actually looked quite Aryan. The third was sort of too skinny and younger, clearly the least attractive of the three.
Well, to my astonishment the dice came up double threes. I thought about renumbering the girls or rolling again but a promise is a promise even if it is made with the devil. I went over to them and asked number three if she would have sex with me. All three girls started laughing and they assumed that I had botched up the Spanish and they tried to figure out what I really wanted to say. They were very friendly and helpful.
It was close to midnight and I tried to convince them that I ment what I said and I invited them to go for a walk on the beach with me. They agreed bemusedly and once on the beach in the moonlight I took ahold of number three's hand and started to come on to her. She seemed willing and her two companions were snickering. I suggested we go swimming and started to take my shirt off. At first she hesitated but then she seemed to say what the heck. We stripped down to our underwear and went out in the waves. Her friends were laughing at my old one piece garments with my bare ass hanging out in the breeze and they soon joined us for a little water fight. The panties on the girl with the nice ass were almost transparent when wet and I got such an erection looking at her.
The first two girls seemed to think this was all a big joke and after awhile they wanted to leave. But number three was not about to and so two finally retreated back to the beach. We waded out to where the waves were crashing over our heads and started kissing. I unfastened her bra and tugged her bottoms down. When she pulled my garments off of my shoulder, I don't know why, but I wilted. I couldn't do it. I was so embarassed but she no longer turned me on at all.
Maybe one of the other two might have but not her. She was frustrated and tried everything but finally gave up on me. I let her wade back to her friends alone. Then the three little bitches took my wallet and my cloths and left me stranded with only my garments. I miraculously found some old rags in a dumpster and they let me ride the bus back home without paying. I returned to a sleeping companion about 1 hour after his alarm went off. I quite easily lied about my absence explaining that I had been out wrestling with the Spirt and he didn't pick up on my missing a suit and pair of shoes.
I concluded that the results of my little spiritual experiment proved that the church must be true! Why else had the Lord saved my virginity by cursing me with impotence at the last crucial moment. I gained the testimony I was seeking and after that, whenever any doubts entered my mind, I immediately blamed my own unworthiness and continued to be devoted to the "Truth." I rationalized that having a naked girl pull off your garments and handling every forbidden part of your body and visa versa was sort of like going to the hospital and having a nurse undress you and bathe you. It was a necessary part of the process of testimony building in my special case and we really didn't go all the way. It took many years before I was able to see the utter stupidity of this experience and conclude that it didn't prove one thing of cosmic significance. If anything, it lended evidence against the church.
I have observed that this kind of illogical thinking and denial is characteristic of young Mormons and it often persists into old age, although this example is rather more extreme than most.
I was visiting a friend in Illinois one summer when we were 16. We went to Six Flags one day and met this group of 6 guys. My friend really hit it off with one of them. We hung together all day and when ti was time to go home, this guy asked for my friend's number. She gave it to him and he wrote it down on his little missionary rule book. Little did they know until I burst out laughing that I was a Morg. The next day I saw them at church. Apparently, two of them had just been transfered to that ward. They had to get up and bear their testimonies, each proffessing their love of missionary work. Only after I promised never to rat on them and told them that I actually lived 2 thousand miles away did they relax. My friend did get a phone call and had a few "dates" with her elder.
When I was a missionary in Germany in the mid-70's I hatched a scheme with two other missionaries to take a little trip to France for a couple of days. Travel outside of the mission boundaries was, of course, forbidden and a flagrant violation of this rule was considered serious enough that it could be grounds for being sent home. We didn't have any particular reason to go to France, nor did we have any specific plans about what we would do when we got there, it was the going and getting away with it that mattered. It was a little caper to spice up our dreary missionary existences.
I was living in a four-man apartment at the time (two companion pairs), but we actually had five missionaries there because of an odd number of missionaries in the mission. I was a senior companion and the other senior companion in the apartment was one of my co-conspirators. We arranged a companion trade-off with a another companion pair in a neighboring city and this third senior companion became the third member of our traveling troupe. We left our four junior companions in the four-man apartment and told them that we'd be "doing the work" in the neighboring city for a couple of days. That night we caught a train to France.
It was a long trip that required a lay-over of several hours in a city in southern Germany. It was the middle of the night and not having anything better to do we wandered the streets, eventually ending up in a little bar. We ordered apple juice, and within five minutes of our sitting down, three prostitutes appeared and joined us at the table. I had a reputation in our mission as a "crooked" missionary, one who kind of thumbed his nose at the mission rules, but I was soon to learn just what "crooked" meant.
The prostitute who was sitting by me was a poor, shy refugee from East Germany who was obviously not excited about her work. She seemed relieved when I politely told her that I wasn't interested in sex with her and she left the table. Meanwhile, the other two missionaries had switched from apple juice to beer (I could kick myself now for not taking this opportunity to try some German beers) and the prostitutes hitting on them had moved to their laps. Between chugs of beer they were tongue-kissing these women and being solicited to "go upstairs."
We finally left the place with no one having "gone upstairs," but I had to damn near physically restrain one of the missionaries from returning to the bar when he realized that he'd just missed his chance to "go upstairs." This guy spent a good part of the rest of the train trip locked in the train's restroom with a Playboy, in part because he hadn't bought a train ticket and in part for other obvious reasons.
Well, we stayed in Strasbourg France long enough to see the sights and get insulted by the French and then returned to Germany. We made a pact never to tell of our travels until we were safely home from Germany and apparently none of us ever did because we all got away with it (TBMs are free to remind me at this point of the severe retribution awaiting us in the next life). As far as our junior companions ever knew, we'd been busy tracting out lost souls in the next city for two days.
Missionaries are salesmen
When I was in the MTC, I noticed how much the track that a missionary uses
is much like an effective sales presentation, with a spiritual product. Has
anyone else noticed this? I worked at a retail computer outlet where we had
a an aggressive sales tract that was so similar to the one used by the
church that I couldn't help think that the 'divinely inspired' method of
teaching his one true gospel was nothing more than common sales tactics. But
if effective, can we learn from this also?
Here's an outline of the 'Commitment Pattern' together with my Sales track.
Sales Track - Summary
1. Build a relationship of trust & confidence
2. Categorize Customer
3. Gather market information
4. Sell the company
5. Gather information about the customer
6. Find out the important features a customer wants
7. Create additional needs
8. Create the need for extended services.
9. Create excitement about the product
10. Close the sale
11. Overcome objections
12. Ensure total customer satisfaction
The Commitment Pattern -summary
Prepare Invite Follow up
Help Others Feel and
Recognize the Spirit
Present the Message
Subject: Re: Missionaries are salesmen
follow up to...
----- Original Message -----
Subject: Missionaries are salesmen
Purpose of Sales:
Sell a product or idea to a satisfied customer
Have Good Sales Characteristics
. Positive Mental Attitude = solution oriented, no whine,
. Goal oriented = towards goal with plans
. Aggressive = to whatever it takes within the rules to achieve the goals
. Company person= committed, relationship
. Humble student = willing to learn from anyone
. Merchant mentality = costs vs. benefits
Compare with The "Missionary Guide"
Purpose of Missionary Work:
To bring souls unto Christ through the ordinances of baptism and
Gain Christlike Attributes:
- Gospel knowledge and testimony
- Personal Righteousness
- Faith and Hard Work
Our Sales Company Philosophy
. Best price
. Best service
. Best selection
The LDS church philosophy
- Jesus Christ is the Son of God and our Redeemer
- Joseph Smith was a prophet of God
- The priesthood has been restored to earth and is found only in the Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
- The Book of Mormon is the Word of God
Starting to see any subliminal parallels?
Things that stand out so far as differences:
A salesman usually has other options that best fit the customer's needs. The
church is trying to find 'the sheep' that best fit it's product.
Obviously, the salesman makes no claim to the eternal significance to his
product, but may convince someone that it's the best on the market, same as
These photos came from an ex-mo who I knew as a mishie in ******* -- they are of a companion that he worked with. Apparently his comp's way of dealing with the stresses of living and working around abject poverty was to smoke a joint. We also had missionaries whose stress relief consisted in abusing "prescription" drugs, which were readily available at every corner pharmacy, without a prescription. Our mission prez was an ex-military ramrod, who made it clear to us that if our companion got into trouble, he'd send us home too. Talk about being put in a difficult spot! This is underscored by a young man from our ward, who just returned home after only three months in the field.
Seems that he ratted out his comp when he found him smoking a joint in the bathroom. Elder "Doobie" was the son of a prominent church leader, and must have taken to heart statements of church leaders saying they'd rather their sons came home in a coffin than "dishonorably." The chap from our ward found Elder "Doobie" in the bathroom the next morning, hanging from a makeshift noose slung over the showerhead. The poor guy was so wracked with guilt that he had to come home for serious psychiatric treatment. He never went back out.
As personal secretary to the mission president in New Zealand, I had access to the files in his office. Once in awhile I'd leaf through the "Excommunication" file. It contained some of the saddest material I'd ever seen, letters from parents telling the mission president to "send our son home, we still love him" were common, thankfully. The file was sufficiently extensive, however, that I was shocked at its volume. Such matters are handled quietly, I know, but it remains one of the statistics in a very statistics-oriented church that is never published. Only a few, I'm sure, become privy to the numbers of missionaries sent home. It would otherwise become a great embarrassment to the church.
Did you have to send any elders or sister
home early? What is this like from an MP's position?"
Yes I did and it was terrible. In every instance I did everything I could to keep the elder (never had to send a sister home) in the mission. Here's a little known secret, the MP can't send anyone home of his own volition. It must be approved by the area presidency. I was often successful in my pleas for mercy from the area presidency. The darkest days of my mission were those I said goodbye to early departing elders. I knew what they were in for when they got home, and ofcourse the shame and ridicule far outweigh any crime these great young people commit.
Ofcourse, some things would be pretty clear cut like fornicating during the mission. But when you compare those things to what goes on in the "real world" it seems that we could reach out with a little more forgiveness, and a little less destroying of young egos. But then again, what is the Church if not an organization bent on absolute control and the breaking of individual spirits?
Well, in my mission we had a guy that was the MP's favorite,
the guy he would tell everyone else they should be like because he worked so
hard. (Reality was he was just a really good brown-noser.) Well, turns out he
was going jogging early in the morning without his companion. But he was only
getting as far as a certain girls house and they were starting the day off with
some horizontal exercise. He was sent home and never mentioned again.
We had another guy that flashed some schoolgirls one morning when he went out to check the mail. The cops were called, and a quick deal was struck. Charges dropped but the guy was on a plane home that day. A friend was this guy's companion at the time - he had to call the MP to tell him his companion had just been arrested. Some fun. - 07/11/2001 - Elwood of recovery bulletin board
We had bunk beds on my mission in every area due to small rooms. With almost every companionship, 2 hours after we were supposed to be asleep, there would be a slight quivering and then a rhythmic rocking of that little frame for a good 5 minutes. I would get a kick out of exclaiming mid-stroke, "Elder, What are you doing?" and listening to the fumbling response (clearing of throat first), "Wha- Wha- What time is it? What are you talking about?" Then I'd snicker knowing that throughout the rest of our companionship, I had a spiritual piece of blackmail over this Elder. I loved the companions that would knock on the bathroom door if you were in there for over 5 minutes in a particularly steamy shower and ask, "Elder is everything all right in there?".
On a serious note, on my mission, I was in a branch where some of the fresh converts from a bout 3 years before told of their baptismal experiences, including the Elders helping all of the young sisters change in and out of their clothing and giving them blessings in the nude. The Elders "touched" several of them in sexual regions. My companion and I tried to get the Priesthood (local and mission) involved to no avail to find out who did this. Those Elders are dangerous, they're probably temple workers now performing initiatories upon the naked for the dead. - 06/13/2001 - anon
My high school girlfriends and I were well aware of the rules established for missionaries. They were to avoid temptation, keep their minds pure, focus on the gospel. We lived in Salt Lake City where there was never a shortage of white-shirted, earnest young men looking for potential converts or witnesses to their faith. We would call out to them, "hey, excuse me, are you missionaries?" They would eagerly start toward us at which point we would all hike up our blouses and give them full breast shots, with a little shimmy thrown in for good measure. And say, "we don't want to talk to you, we just want to flash you!" I hope we cheered a few of them up, they always seemed so serious! - 06/05/2001 - Ellen
Yea I faked or was part of at least 250 fake or underage baptisms. The funnest one is when some of the elders put the baptismal font in the back of this members truck and we went to this very poor area. I am pretty sure the kids just though it was a big water fight with white clothes. I think the adults that we baptised look at it as just a good way to take a bath.
I bet if you were to do a audit of the Equador Mission at least 70% of the members don't exist or don't know they are baptised. We even made up streets.
One time I was looking for in-active members and the mission president got really pissed at me when I told him that there wasn't even a street in my district with that name. He told me that was the branch president job to keep the members active. What this asshole didn't know is the branch president was inactve and I had been and was the branch president in this branch, even when I worked in another area. Something we'd just keep from the Pres so he wouldn't lose his cool. Hell he a lot to talk about. The big joke in the mission was how were the elders going to activate President Ferrel's wife when they got back to the states.
This is when I stopped fighting and when along for the ride. This Mormon cult has changed since I was in it and it looks even worse. I wonder just how long they can go on lying and getting away with it.
- 05/09/2000 - Elder Mike Boyd
When I was about 16 years old my family left our large Utah ward and moved to upper Michigan to a small lonely branch. Quite by accident a sister missionary from our Utah ward was assigned there a couple years later. She was very discouraged and sought solace with me.
One thing lead to another and we ended up sleeping together a few times before she left for home. Her replacement was not very attractive and probably never had much romantic attention so I "did her" also, I don't know why.
Maybe sort of like a service project. Since then I have found more enjoyment and satisfaction seducing sister missionaries than anything else. Its not the actual sex which tends to be pretty crappy. Its the thrill of the pursuit which requires enormous skill, patience, and some luck.
Mormonism is, on a subconscious level, such a sex-obsessed and provocative religion. Who would have thought of holy underwear! Deep down these sisters want IT so bad. But they have so many inhibitions.
I move around and generally pose as either a recently reactivated member of else as an investigator with a lot of hard questions. We go through the missionary lessons and a million questions on the BofM and various eye games. I love to play them off on each other. The lingering handshakes, the long prayers and then the little hugs. By the first kiss things are so out of control.
Once you get past those infernal garments its so sweet. The explosive release of so much pent up passion its impossible to describe. You can walk into a bar and take a pretty girl home to bed in twenty minutes, but where's the fun in it? Wouldn't you rather invest several weeks of intense effort, thinly guised as religious discovery, in what seems like an impossible scheme and then succeed? - 03/08/2000 - anon
12/25/2000 - Trunz
In my mission, even though most sisters were older than the Elders, so long as the sister was 'good-looking' instead of 'sweet,' our boingers were damn near up in her presence. There was always talk among Elders about Sister so and so, and how hot she was, and about how we would all marry her after our missions. We would try to find out as much personal information about foxy sisters as we could, so we could maintain talk about them and many Elders would have pictures taken with the babe sisters and hang them in their bedrooms. Occasionally, some Elder and some Sister would hug--all in a spiritual moment of course.
We even had one sister ranked as 'Miss California Anaheim Mission'. Most missionaries would try to get close to her, just to say Hi! The more times you could tell other missionaries that you were 'with' her, the more it was spread around the mission that you and her were an item. All missionaries I knew, wondered out loud how much she liked them and her name was always spoken in romantic tones among Elders. Even after she when 'home,' there was always talk about 'what' she may be doing.
Oh it didn't stop with sister missionaries; no, ward teen sisters were even a bigger target. My first companion-who was a very tall Weber College basketball player-would hug all knock-out Laurels in our area on holidays. He would ask first by saying, 'It's Valentine's Day' and then hold out his arms. Each one of them would come running and they would wrap their arms around each other in what seemed, as an eternity to me.
In another of my areas, the four of us in the apartment would get our hair cut by Sister so and so, who was a babe in her own right, but she also had a daughter that was 'Miss East Anaheim Stake' to us. We would be so sexually charged on haircut day, and go over there after school, so we could get a glimpse of her. Even during the haircut, her mother would get her hips right into my face and if I could hear her daughter playing the piano, I would come close to an orgasm. We always got haircuts from her more than we should of.
We also had pictures of hot teen sisters in this area, as a permanent fixture in our apartment. They hid behind the pictures of the prophets of the church, and a door was cut out of each prophet, so you could open it to see the sister you desired. Any missionary who felt the need, could open the doors, for as long as he had the need.
I've got more stories to tell about this, but I'll stop now, as I'm getting a little woozy. What a great Sunday I'm having, thinking and talking about this. There's more to missions than proselytizing; there's also adult entertainment, because our well-known mission motto was: 'Look once or you're not a man, look twice and you're not a missionary.'
12/27/2000 - anon
While in the MTC one of the elders in our district had not come to the mission morally clean and after about 2 weeks of the spirit working on him, he broke down in class and began crying uncontrollably. Our teacher, sister Wilcox held him while he cried for about 20 minutes. And I thought you weren't supposed to hug the opposite sex while on your mission!
A missionary story: In the early '70's, my family was living outside our home state of Utah. ( My husband and I are decended from early mormon converts, but somehow our lineage got a bit watered down; resulting in our never really being TBMs, nor are our three sons ) One afternoon, I received a call from a missionary assigned to the area in which we were living. I happened to know him from back home and said " sure" when he asked if they could stop in. This was not a missionary-type visit. It was more of a visit between friends and we discussed topics of mutual interest. During our chat, it became apparent that these two young men were pre-occupied with the fact that they were being encouraged to walk rather than drive to accomplish their missionarying. We lived in a farming area where homes were at least a 1/2-mile apart.
Apparently, missionaries had been instructed to limit the miles they drove their car to a certain number each week. They talked at length about this; so I'm sure it had been made a real issue by their supervisors. Imagine my astonishment (and amusement!!) when I watched them drive away from my yard a few minutes later, in reverse! They drove that way for at least two miles, until I could no longer see them. It took a bit of time for what I'd seen to sink in, and to figure out exactly what was going on. Obviously, they'd had devine inspiration to drive backwards so the odometer would not register mileage and they would get mormon brownie points for not exceeding their mileage limits. Is there a Boy Scout Merit Badge (written especially for mormon boy scouts) for backwards driving, with advanced skills perfected on freeways? Does the honesty merit badge require only a number on an odometer?
Thank God, I've never been nor ever will be a "missionary mama". ( You know those rather portly middle-aged mormon women who gather frequently to chat & share "My missionary son's latest testimony enhancing experience"! ) - 03/01/2000 - anon
I was a convert to the church and never a missionary but was involved in one of the stranger missionary discussions of all time. A student at a Midwestern university, I had been a member of the church for about a year when the missionaries asked me to sit in on a lesson they were giving an investigator about the Law of Chastity and they wanted me to be there to tell the young guy why masturbation was a violation of the Law of Chastity! (did they use their gift of discernment to determine if I had some special experience in that area?).
The day of the lesson came and I was held at the apartment the missionaires stayed at--another surprise because years before my brother had rented the same apartment and engaged in a lot of unchaste activity in that place with a series of nubile coeds as I recalled. Were the missionaries aware of the steamy history their flat had?
Eventually the discussion got around to the sin of Onan and without further ado, the lead missionary turned the discussion over to me. I offered the poor shnook some platitudes about the wrongness of the deed (which I didn't believe) and resisted the temptation scorch his ears and the missionaries' ears with some tales of my own romps with my LDS girlfriend which took place all throughout the time I was taking the missionary discussions on Tues. night and employing the missionary position with her on Wed. night. I'll give the investigator credit--he took it in good humor and he made a light-hearted attempt to defend the practice, that sometimes a guy just needed some relief (his words!). The discussion sort of fizzled out at that point and I was never asked to sit in on a missionary discussion again. I guess I wasn't convincing enough and as I recall, the guy didn't join the Church in any event. -2/04/2000 - anon
Two districts of missionaries went to the beach of P-Day. Some of us went skinny dipping. I actually lost my shorts and had to have my companion swim back and borrow someone's shorts so I could swim back in. 02/01/2000 - anon
I have Mormon Missionary kids next door. The Church has rented that apartment for years. Kids come and go. These last 2 batches are just crazy. They have girls living in there. I think it's to show what life is like for the single parent neighbor (me) as an example to them. Although I make a ton of money and being single isn't that bad. Anyway, there are Mormon Missionary boys that like to come see the girls and they stand outside and they are SO loud. They whoop it up for more than an hour at a time. I've asked them repeatedly to keep it down so my son can sleep but they ignore me. It's never at a decent time of day. The guy living below them is just over it. I'm at the point now of having to decide whether to call the Church or to call the police. These kids obviously aren't concerned. This goes on and on. I had no idea these Missionary kids were so rotten. Not the image the Church would want out there, I wouldn't think. You would think we could all co-exist, but these kids are way out of control. - 06/29/2014 - Cee Cee
I served in the Greece Athens Mission but spent most of my mission on the island of Cyprus.
After a few weeks at the MTC in Provo, I once woke up in the middle of the night to go use the bathroom, I walked in semi darkness to the restrooms and when I got there, I realized that almost every stall was occupied by other Elders masturbating. So I decided to masturbate too.
I remember that there was like a secret society and they would do weird rituals and initiations using a fake sword and words like: BY the power of the Priesthood I set you apart as..... At that time I thought it was blasphemous to mock the priesthood.
My Mission President was a GA wanna-be. Him and his wife were so mean and cold hearted. I once told him that they never showed us any love or affection and the answer was: "Jesus was a touch lover!" Bullshit.
The worst missionaries one my mission would all become ZL's and AP's. it did not take me long to realize that the Mission President was giving the important callings to sons of very rich people in the community in Utah (i.e the son of the CEO of NOvell, the son of a GA, etc..) It is ALL POLITICS. Disgusting.
My second senior companion was supposed to be one of the best missionaries in the mission. Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to have him as my senior companion. The truth was quite different. This Elder started having a loving relationship with a European Sister. they would lock themselves in a room for hours, while the Sister's junior comp and I would sit outside reading the scriptures and wondering what the hell was going on. Well I never told the MP but a week after my companion came home, the European Sister flew to Utah to see him and they almost got married. I know they were messing around and yet everybody thought he was a translated being.
This is to tell you how inspired your mission call is. I grew up thinking that the Prophet asked the Lord where you are supposed to go. Well I received two mission calls with two different destinations. The Lord must have been confused. I was told to chose one, and went to Greece. After two years at the MTC in Provo with my District, I get to the Athens airport and the MP started counting us and says: There is an extra Elder and looking at me he says: WHo are you? I don't have your name on my list. I was not expecting you. Are you sure you are supposed to be here?!. I wanted to cry. After two freaking months at the MTC learning Greece, the bastard did not even know I was coming. - 05/08/2014 - Elder from Utah
One of my favorite things to do on mission in Holland was to go to the spa/swimming pool on both sexes day. It was a nude establishment and it was the best feeling to swim nude and go off the diving board loose and free.
Even better was the steam room, I would always sit between the best looking babes. It was a bit embarrassing when I would get a hard on and the ladies would giggle. Some of the ladies would give hugs, wet and juicy what great fun.
I wish I had been able to get more of my companions to go there or a place like that more often.
Another time my companion had a girlfriend from a nearby city and she brought a friend and we made out for hours in the car. I was able to get under her bra and panties for some extra fun. I think my companion may have achieved full penetration, I was too busy to know for sure.
The interesting thing was that was when I had the most success teaching and baptizing on my mission is when I broke the most rules worked less and had more fun. Now I know the Mormon church is a bunch of crap I wish I would have had more fun and tried harder to be with more dutch girls. They was always some girls around that would have had sex or what ever with us, I missed out.
I got flashed and girls would answer the doors naked on numerous occasions and invite us in. I was going in one time and my companion said he would tell the Mission President and get me sent home. Too bad she was a hottie. - 04/10/2014 - JohnyD
The Fellowship of the wallaby.
We drove out midnight and decided to hunt a wallaby with a bow and arrow breaking about a million rules, and the law. Ended up killing it with a wrench, skinning it, preserving its skin and then eating it. We now have a secret mission society called, "the fellowship of the wallaby. Only one way to enter the fellowship!! - 03/21/2014 - Serving currently in australia Tas
I'm sooo gratefull there is such a website like this. A website that lets people understand that you dont have to be perfect to be a mormon and you dont have to follow all of the rules, you just have to lie and act like you really want to follow the religion because you are either too afraid or too ashamed to tell your parents that you dont want to follow the belief anymore or because your still hoping that parents are going to keep up their end of the bargain of buying you a brand new car if you complete your mission. I know not all of these stories on this website are stories of missionaries boasting about what rules they broke and how much of a pain in the ass it was to follow the rules day in and day out, i just want to say to those ones that have a complaint about their mission or have such a great storie about what rule they broke, i just want to say, you guys are a whole bunch of whiney ass mutherfuckers that had the choice to go on that mission, no one put a gun to your head and forced you, no told you that you could not quit. All you were asked to do was to find people who wanted to hear of the gospel and share it and live by it. Now that we know that there are missionaries out there that have such a grimmy attitude and that do not represent the church so great, we just need to slap them in the face and tell them to get the fuck out, leave their mission if they are just going to bitch about the rules. Thee end. P.S. I'm not perfect but i'm not going to whine about how many rules you "have" to live by, because i know its a choice i make,and i make a choice to belive and not bitch about my religion. Assholes. - 01/04/2014 - Bitch
I had a stash of cd's, bought a few Maxims, played Monopoly all night a couple times, and once went to see "Resident Evil" in the theater when it came out. That was badass. Movies are WAY BETTER when you haven't seen any tv in 7 months. - 05/02/2010 - Doc
You have NO idea what your talkig about! The Mormon religion has it's rights just as much as catholic or any other religion! You are jsut plain rude and ignorant! - 05/01/2010 - LDSMEMBER
This is pathetic. Yes, there are missionaries who do choose to go on missions for the wrong reasons. Stressed to do so is a big reason. We all know everyone makes mistakes. No one is perfect. I find it pathetic to seriously sit here and make a site to call out the wrong things certain missionaries have done. It's low. Seriously, you should get a life. If you stopped bashing this so much, maybe you could take the time to find some fantastic missionaries out there who want to serve the Lord. - 03/04/2010 - Kaitlyn
There was a secret hidden society spoken of when I worked at the MTC in the cafeteria in Provo before my mission. I had heard that there was such a thing called the Quorum of the 12 Apostates. It's a very dark and extremely intelligent group that requires the uttermost vow of brotherhood and silence and secrecy. On the outside, the 12 look like any other missionary. They may not ever even serve together. They might be mixed from different zones and different districts. They only know that when enough are serving in and around the same time and in the same area, they can form the collective. The deeds? Break every single rule in the white hand book. Never tell anyone else, but the 12. Never let anyone else know, but the 12. It's extremely powerful and extremely interesting. Happens in every mission throughout the history of missions. I'm not absolutely sure how the tradition is upheld. I think it is sorta of the "Dread Pirate Roberts" effect... I think it might be that each of the 12 trains a greenie and/or teaches at the MTC and reveals some of the secrets of how to do it, how to baptize, teach a million discussions, be AP, be ZL, be DL, and still maintain your membership as a 12 Apostate. - 01/05/2010 - Quorum of the 12 Apostates
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