The bible warns of the danger of double-standard living in Matthew 23:27-28 which tells readers:  "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites … on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”

I knew that I had a decision to make as I left the restaurant parking lot. I could force the owner to follow the rules, or do my best to follow Jesus. What I didn’t know was if the latter meant that I had to continue to frequent the Chinese restaurant.

A quick read of Mark 2:15 confirmed that Jesus didn’t spurn sinners; he spent time with them.[iv] From his example, I had to conclude that God wants us to do the same.

Les Parrott has this to add about dealing with difficult people: “Most of us view challenges as unwelcome intrusions into our lives. But these intrusions have a way of prompting us to get up and keep going.”[v]

“Why?” the author continued on page 63. “Because challenges enlarge you. They push and pull you in ways you think you couldn’t stretch.”

That’s what happened in the months that followed as I stopped by the Chinese restaurant for my weekly order of takeout. Although the optimist in me held out hope that the owner would change, it was I who began to feel differently. The man who I used to find irritating had become endearing, instead of someone to be endured.

“Your total is $4.95,” the owner would announce as I stepped up to the register.

“Cash or check only,” he’d remind me a few seconds later when I attempted to pay with a credit card.

Without arguing, I’d retrieve the five-dollar bill that waited in the wings of my wallet and hand it over with a smile like that of a parent who knows their child has done something wrong, but finds them too cute to discipline.

One day, I was particularly optimistic that I would be able to pay with credit when I ordered two entrées, one for myself and another for a friend.

“Your total is $9.90,” the owner announced.

Surely he’ll let me use my card this time, I decided as I retrieved it from my purse.

“Total must be ten dollar or more,” the owner insisted.

“It’s ten cents away,” I challenged.

“Cash or check,” he replied.

Despite the silliness of this interaction, I still believed in the owner's ability to change … until the day I called in my order instead of stopping by the restaurant.

“I’d like an order of garlic chicken to go,” I explained.

The owner hesitated for a few seconds before gathering up the courage to ask: “You pay cash?”

With those words I knew, not just that the owner recognized my voice, but that our disagreements over his credit card policy troubled him more than they bothered me. It was like he was a victim of his own circumstances, unaware that he had the power to improve them.

This realization led to another one as I began to care more about the owner, and less about how he ran his business. It was this concern for his well-being that caused me to say with a smile:  “Yes, I will pay cash.”

For the next year, I happily traded a five-dollar bill for my near-weekly order of garlic chicken. Because I went so often, my daughters also developed a taste for Chinese cuisine. This should have been a good thing, but their favorite entrée took my relationship with the restaurant owner to a new level of frustration.

“I’d like a small garlic chicken and a small orange chicken,” I stated when it was my turn to order.

“Orange chicken only come in large,” the owner replied.

“Every other entrée comes in both a small and a large size,” I argued, “why doesn’t this one?”

“It not on the menu,” he explained.

“See,” he added after pointing to the list of lunch entrées available.

Why was he acting so helpless when it would be easy for him to say yes to my request? I wondered.

Les Parrott would say that “people who respond in a helpless manner have learned this response. At some point in their attempts to achieve goals and succeed in life, they’ve been thwarted. When this happens enough and they believe that their efforts make no difference, they give up.”[vi]

I didn’t want to give up but, knowing our history together, it seemed silly to engage in what would likely be another losing battle. I was about to go with my initial impulse to drop the issue when a second thought captured my attention. Giving in would mean that the owner’s sense of learned helplessness had rubbed off on me.

One thing that hinders success more than fighting a losing battle is succumbing to the urge to do nothing at all.

Les Parrott agreed when he said: “successful people don’t automatically give in to initial inclinations. They don't restrict their choices. It's that three seconds of consideration that empowers them to choose alternatives that others never recognize."[vii]

I had to agree as I stood in the restaurant and reached a decision about which impulse to obey.

“Look,” I said with the resolve of a parent who had reached the point where her child’s antics were no longer considered cute. “My daughters won’t eat enough to justify a large and it doesn’t make sense to buy more than I need just to throw it away.”

“Maybe I add it to the menu next time I change it,” he offered.

“Why does it have to be on the menu?” I reasoned. “You have a standard price for small entrées. How hard is it to make a small amount of orange chicken, put it in a small container, and charge me the small price?”

This time, it was my adversary who engaged in the power of thinking twice as he started to say no and then paused for a few seconds before reluctantly agreeing to honor my request.

The owner of the Chinese restaurant and I have been on quite a journey over the past year-and-a-half. It’s a journey where I learned to accept and he learned to adapt, all because of the power of thinking twice.

A few weeks ago, the owner even went out of his way to show me that orange chicken is now available in the smaller size on the restaurant’s updated menu. No one could be more excited than my daughter Hollie who received the Chinese Takeout Littlest Pet Shop Panda for Christmas and affectionately named him, You Pay Cash.