I was a missionary in Chile and my first missionary companion was a smart IVY league college guy. Probably in different circumstances he may have been fun to be around.

When I first got to this non-driving mission I had cheap dress shoes that blistered my heels. This prick would not slow down for me. He would walk 50 yards ahead of me at a pace that probably seemed fanatical to the people watching us. One time I just let him keep walking out of my sight--and then headed off to the town square and chilled. He did not seem to have any problems with the rule about leaving your companion alone, a known mission rule, but seemed to have issues with me and my blistered feet that continued to walk a normal pace.

During my first month with him we baptized about 15 teenage girls from the poor sector. My companion had blue eyes and was very likable to the locals. However, it was evident that none of these people we baptized went through a spiritual conversion or transformation. It was a bleak time in the County's history--the church was probably somewhat entertaining and a outlet for people without much hope. It was also a time that for the mission big numbers were everything in Chile.

Anyways, the prick went on to be AP and I got a new companion. Probably if you asked a thousand people who know him--they would speak of him in a positive way. But to me he will always be a prick. Decades later, I still have the urge to send him a email telling him what a prick he was.

Tell him what a prick he was. Douchebaggery is an illness best treated and not left to fester.

Find out how to get in touch with him. Save the contact info. Some day when you are having a bad day drop him a line and tell him what a prick he was.

Do it early in the day because the remainder of the day you'll be smiling and spontaneously bursting out in laughter.

There are a couple I would like to punch in the nose. Other then that, I don't want to speak or talk to most of them ever again.

Yes I dealt with my fair share of pricks on my mission, but I don't feel the need to tell them off. After all, they're the losers that, for years to come, will be giving thousands of their hard-earned money to a real estate holding company that poses as a church.

Send him a note, attached to that Bloomberg article, saying something about karma. Send it anonymously. Nowadays, people aren't that hard to find - he may even be on FB page about your mission.

Due to whatever factors in the Universe that were acting on me during my time in Mormonism:

-Lack of love/affection in my parents home
-authoritarian nature of Mormonism
-the inquisitive mind that I was born with

I tried to emulate - copy the successful Peter Priesthood guy.

miserable failure, I substituted Bluff & Bluster.

the Fact that I wasn't alone doesn't make it O.K.
Now, I'm the Black Sheep (but Not SHEEPLE) in my family.

Similar sitch for my first companion. In Japan in the early 80s we had mostly junk bikes, given to us by members, or just pulled out of trash bins. My first was a 1 speed grandpa bike that only had one pedal, while my companion's was a comparatively nice 5 speed. The prick would stay several blocks ahead of me, in busy city traffic. I still remember the sickening feeling of disorientation when he disappeared. Luckily I only had to deal with him for a month

While my hatred of that particular asshat remains to this day, I could give a flying f*ck if I ever saw him again, let alone confront him about his asshattic qualities. He was a miserable f*uck then, I'm sure he still is now.

What goes around, comes around.

It might do you good to find out what hell his life has been, but this much you can probably prophesy, see, and revelate for yourself:

He is either divorced or has a miserable marriage. His wife won't walk anywhere with him. Neither will his kids. When he finally blows out both knees, no one will wait for him.

You know that at least one, and probably 10 Mormons in his ward, wherever he is, are treating him like dirt. You know that all wards are run the same way, and the priesthood hierarchy is made up mostly of pricks.

Wherever he goes, whatever he does, people will cringe when they see him approaching. He carries the gloom inside of him, and, thus, can never escape it.

He will not be loved. The Mormon church does not teach, preach, or practice love. Besides, his personality does not attract love.

Maybe you could find pity, because this guy is probably still trapped in that evil cult.

Picture him cleaning church toilets.

Picture him scraping money together to pay tithing, then scrimping on it, then feeling guilty about it, over and over, year after year, always living on 10% less than other people.

Think of all the Sundays he starves himself.

Think of how uncomfortable and ugly those garments are.

This guy will never be good enough--not in the eyes of his parents, his wife, his kids, and not in his own eyes.

You have already gotten revenge on this person, because you have seen the truth, and you have escaped from an oppressive cult.

Congratulations!

I took everything from my mission the photos, the letters, everything and burned it all. If you were to asks me what the biggest mistake I ever made was going on a mission would be it. Some things are best erased from your life.

Life is too short to remember all the junk. It's best to cut it loose and move on.

I told Elder Prick (his given name was hyphenated: Major-League) to his face what a major-league prick he was. Told him to knock it the fuck off and shove his prickitude up his own ass. Told him the next time he was a major-league prick to me I'd shove him in front of a train and laugh while doing so. Elder Prick finally started to be so afraid of me he actually stopped being a major-league prick. At least for several days at a time. After about six weeks of this I transferred out and was rid of him.

And there is where the story got interesting.

After the mission ordeal, I went home content in the knowledge that I would never again have to live 24/7/365 with the kind of major-league prick represented by Elder Major-League Prick. I though that I would never again run into another prick like Elder (now Brother) Major-League Prick. Wrong. Through the ensuing decades, I have had the misfortune to not only run into ONE but TWO other Brother Pricks. And they are all related. Their prickitude is genetic. Gross, you say? Yes. Turns out that all the males in the entire clan are Pricks, individuated from each other only through their hyphenated given names: Bang-Up and World-Class.

Un-fucking-believable, but true.

I was the prick TBM, I need to look them up and apologize

Unfortunately, I was too.

Unfortunately, I was so depressed during most of my mission that I was a terrible companion most of the time too. If I have any regrets from my LDS days it would be that I wish I hadn't taken it all so seriously and chilled out a bit. I would've had more fun and been more fun to be around.

Instead of just keeping my mouth shut like a good Elder, I made the mistake early on of admitting to a companion I didn't really like reading the scriptures because I thought New Testament Jesus was "too cocky" ("I am the way, the truth, & the light", etc.) and that the Jehovah of the Old Testament was just mean. This led to a long talk with my MP who accurately diagnosed my agnosticism.

Instead of sending me home he talked to the Europe Area president who told him to let me stay as long as I kept all the rules. For the rest of my mission my MP paired me with guys he thought of as his future assistants so I never got to slack off. I very strictly obeyed the rules anyway because I had been conditioned to still believe my doubt was a personal defect that would go away with increased worthiness-- i.e. commandment/rule keeping.

My MP would tell my companions before assigning them to me that I didn't believe in God. Seriously. How are you supposed to have a normal companionship after that? The good comps took this as a rare chance to help convert at least one person. I'm sure some of the others just thought I was a heathen "prick"-- which I probably was.

That said, I had a few great comps who I considered to be some of my very best friends.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/17/2012 05:57PM by califkorihorfan.

I am so glad you asked.

I was given the problem seniors when I was a junior because the President was inspired that I was their only hope. He briefly touched on this in an interview and it was later confirmed by someone who worked in the mission home that I became friends with. I just wish they had told me this BEFORE I was assigned to them.

The one that was truly unbearable was competition personified. His need to show that he was the most wonderful missionary that had ever lived was monumental.

To prove this he never walked unless it was a running walk. I am talking olympic medal status walking. Trying to keep up as the junior, I had the worst shin splints that got so painful I could barely walk. I finally just quit trying to keep up after I realized it was just a control tactic to show his superiority.

Beyond that he set the world wide standards for smugness and arrogance. He was rude and pushy to anyone who refused us and never took no for an answer. I only wish we had tracked on Cheryl's street.

I wish that the TBM parents and friends could see the truth of how so many of their cherished sons were on their missions. The phony baloney 'returning conquerer' mission reports would take on a completely different significance.

I wouldn't mind seeing the German medic wannabee who was obsessed with nutrition and water intake. Once he demanded to see the colour of my urine as I wasn't chugging 4 litres of water a day. I'd love to chug a beer and see his reaction.

austrobrit Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I wouldn't mind seeing the German medic wannabee
> who was obsessed with nutrition and water intake.
> Once he demanded to see the colour of my urine as
> I wasn't chugging 4 litres of water a day. I'd
> love to chug a beer and see his reaction.

------------------------

Austrobrit....that account sounds just like one of the German elders that I knew. You weren't in the ECM/EBM early 00's were you?

I had two comps that I really struggled with. One was for two months & the other luckily was just for one. Strangely, I imagine that the first guy & I would have got on pretty well outside of our missions but he was hard work as a Mishy & I think he was annoyed that he was senior to me by about 6 months but that I was the senior companion.

The second guy was a really a**hole & I came close to kicking his whinging ass more than once. He'd been pushing papers in the mission office for months & was eventually booted back out into the real world or missionary work. I was unlucky enough to be landed with him & he moaned about everything & spoke about the mission president as though they were blood brothers. It was the longest month of my mission & I think if I bumped into him even 20+ years later I'd have to tell him what an idiot he was.

I also received an email from an AP a few years ago via the mission alumini website which I was registered on. It was a real glory days/long lost friends type email, despite the fact that we barely knew each. This guy was such a hypocritical, rule breaking, power crazy moron back then, that I just laughed and deleted the email.

Maybe he had a brother! I was in Germany 96-98. Most of my companions were ok, he was the oddest, even though going down the list I also had a giant (so big he broke furniture), a genius (high school diploma at 15) and a sex pest in the mix.

I want to look up some of my comps and apologize for being a self-righteous dick. I would even offer to buy them a beer.

Time for a little scripture study:

Numbers 33:55 --
"But if ye will not drive out the inhabitants of the land from before you; then it shall come to pass, that those which ye let remain of them shall be pricks in your eyes, . . ."

Acts 9:5--
". . . it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks."

Acts 26:14--
". . . it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks."

D&C 121:38--
"Behold, ere he is aware, he is left unto himself, to kick against the pricks, . . . "

Hell F_ck yeah! I wish I could find them all and stuff the BOA up their asses!

Thanks for being my first companion and one of the worst. I hope you see this.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/17/2012 11:00PM by dthenonreligious.

I was in the Japan mission, early eighties. all of my companions were TB dick heads that never got the language, and thought God would judge us by the number of contacts we made. However, the last dude, a greenie was like me and questioned things, a great deal..he and I enjoyed the last six months as tourists, and not mishies.I should try to find him and see what he is up to.

I think people can treat each other badly when it comes to serving as missionary companions.

My health was slowly declining before my mission because I worked way too hard to save money for my mission - being a covert and ony member in the family. So, when I sent out the application, it was clearly stated there, and my stake president and I agreed that if SLC turned me down, we would both consider myself having served a mission.

Half way thourgh my mission, I was diagnosed of chronic fatigue and my mission president was notified of this immediately. He urged me to stay on and gave me the permission to take a brief nap after lunch. All of companions were also told that I had chronic fatigue.

But it didn't seem to work very well. There were times that I felt asleep when we did our personal prayers in the morning. My companion at the time would bring it up constantly and accuse me of being lazy. "You were sleeping, weren't you?"

"Sorry. I didn't know I felt asleep. I was praying and then..."

"So, you were REALLY sleeping..."

"But..."

Then he turned away in a rage.


Then, after that, I had some serious episodes of illness, such as having a dangerously high temperature.

AFter I got better - without his care, actually - I didn't feel like talking to him at all..even after we both moved out of that area.

Years, years later, someone from TSCC told me that he ran into that companion of mine when he visited Utah, and said that I traumatized that companion and should apologize to him.

What? Apparently that companion didn't tell the whole truth about what happened...how I was treated when I was very, very ill when both of us were stranded in the middle of nowhere.

So, that companion of mine did tell me, through another person, what a prick I was. But, is that fair? or is that even "right"?