E
EM_PumaI was coming through US Customs Tuesday from Vancouver, BC. I was wearing one of my BYU polos and the customs official looks at the BYU emblem and goes,
"Oh, the school with that extremely good basketball player. They had a really good season didn't they?"
"Yes sir they did." I wasn't taking any chances as coming through Canadian Customs Sunday evening they held me up for an hour grilling me with countless questions as to why the Church would be sending someone to Vancouver to look at mission finances as though there was no local Canadian competent enough to do the job. I learned not to use the word "auditor". Coming back when asked the word I stated that I was a "trainer." That elicited the question if I was an athletic trainer or did I train paramilitary terrorists. I told him I'd take door number 3, "I train financial people."
"What was his name...Fredette?" I think if I would have paused a moment he would have pounced all over me. It would have been like in WWII where the US soldiers would constantly ask an unknown a question about baseball to fetter out if the guy was an American or a Nazi.
"Yes sir, his name is Jimmer." He smiled as though I had passed the test and stamped my paperwork.
"I think he's going to be a good NBA player," he said.
"Anything you say sir. Who can argue with a custom's official"
"Oh, the school with that extremely good basketball player. They had a really good season didn't they?"
"Yes sir they did." I wasn't taking any chances as coming through Canadian Customs Sunday evening they held me up for an hour grilling me with countless questions as to why the Church would be sending someone to Vancouver to look at mission finances as though there was no local Canadian competent enough to do the job. I learned not to use the word "auditor". Coming back when asked the word I stated that I was a "trainer." That elicited the question if I was an athletic trainer or did I train paramilitary terrorists. I told him I'd take door number 3, "I train financial people."
"What was his name...Fredette?" I think if I would have paused a moment he would have pounced all over me. It would have been like in WWII where the US soldiers would constantly ask an unknown a question about baseball to fetter out if the guy was an American or a Nazi.
"Yes sir, his name is Jimmer." He smiled as though I had passed the test and stamped my paperwork.
"I think he's going to be a good NBA player," he said.
"Anything you say sir. Who can argue with a custom's official"