Potato Salad Culture Shock

Potato Salad Culture Shock
I consider myself to be a reasonable person, and rarely clash with people. But that may just be because I am rarely crossed. When I think about it, actually, I react rather poorly to being crossed.
Recently, I’ve spent a lot of time in the kitchen, following orders from other volunteers that relate to preparing large amounts of food. It’s been an almost entirely pleasant experience. As I mentioned before, I’m not great at cooking, so I’ve resigned myself to having some of my work “fixed up,” or even just plain “done over.” As long as I’m a net asset, not liability, it’s fine with me.
I believed that I was in that mentality when the Leader for the day asked me to chop up onions for potato salad. After being shown exactly how thin, and what direction, to slice the onion, I carefully followed instructions. Then I rotated the slices 90 degrees and chopped them again. I figured since it was potato salad, the finer I chopped them, the better.
That was when the Leader descended on me in a state of great consternation. “Oh, my god! You minced them!”
“Minced won’t do?” I asked. I probably didn’t sound annoyed, but I certainly was. It’s potato salad, for crying out loud! You stick stuff in a bowl and stir it up! Does is really matter if the onions are chopped one extra time? “Let’s just put them in. It’ll be fine.”
“Oh, no, these can’t be used for the potato salad now. I guess we’ll stick them in the miso soup.”
I couldn’t help muttering a weak protest. “I think these onions are fine,” I said.
“No, no, no, potato salad onions must be cut in only one direction.” She whisked my onions away and dumped them in the soup.
I treated myself to an inner diatribe.
WHERE DO YOU THINK POTATO SALAD COMES FROM, ANYWAY?! THE WEST!!! IT’S WESTERN FOOD!!! I AM A WESTERNER!! DON’T TELL A WESTERNER HOW TO MAKE POTATO SALAD!! DOES IT REALLY MATTER SO %&$^* MUCH IF THE ONIONS ARE SHORT? WILL ANYONE SUFFER LASTING MENTAL DAMAGE BECAUSE THE ONIONS DO NOT DANGLE IN LONG, ELEGANT STRIPS FROM THE FORK!?
I spent the next half hour in a mental self-help session. I reminded myself that I was here for one purpose only, volunteering, and was not here to start preparing a list of mortal enemies. I decided to wait quietly, follow directions even more carefully, and see what happened.
A few minutes later my fellow worker, a young man, finished chopping the cabbage for a different dish. He presented it to the leader.
“Oh, my. Oh, this is not right. You need to chop it more finely. We can’t use this for the salad. . .maybe we can find some other use for it. It seems a pity to throw it away. . .”
Instantly, my feeling of alienation was replaced by one of brotherhood. I smiled peacefully at the crestfallen young man, waves of benevolence emanating from the corners of my blissfully upturned mouth.
“Should we add some eggs to the salad?” I asked.
“Eggs in potato salad?” asked the Leader, confused. “No, eggs are not used in potato salad.”
“Oh,” I said happily. “Of course not.”
I smiled a yet more peaceful smile, happy in the knowledge that last week, at a different refugee center, I had been instructed to chop up eggs to put in potato salad.
I couldn’t help noticing that the Leader was boiling the potatoes to add to the salad. Last week, at a different refugee center, I had offered to boil potatoes for the potato salad and been stopped. “Boil? No, potatoes for potato salad must be steamed. That’s much more delicious.”
Who would think that working together to help people in trouble could be so thorny? Like I mentioned before, any time humans try to do good, they must first deal with their own human relationships. I imagine that sometimes means a dead stop.