Like many Australians of my generation—that is, before the advent of self-checkout—I spent several of my teenage years as a checkout chick at Coles Supermarkets. On evenings after school and weekends, I would don the customary black pants, white shirt uniform, throw on my name badge and spend hours scanning trolley-loads of groceries.
Before automated checkouts and “click and collect,” grocery shopping was one of society’s great equalisers. Everyone had to do it. A checkout operator would encounter all types, as we scanned their cereal and cans of tuna.
The customer we all feared the most was the person known only as the “mystery shopper,” who was employed to visit various supermarkets and then report to management on the level of customer service they received.
It’s not clear to me whether the said mystery shopper existed or, like the Loch Ness Monster and Big Foot, was more mythical than actual. It didn’t matter. Any anonymous customer could be the mystery shopper, and so we tried our best to ensure everyone was treated well.
Jumping a couple of decades and a few career moves forward, I like to imagine myself as a bit of a “mystery shopper” when I have the opportunity to visit a new parish. This is particularly the case when the parish is outside the Archdiocese of Sydney, and I’m not so easily recognised by Catholic Weekly readers.
It’s especially fun when the parish priest happens to be a friend of mine, because I get to chat randomly to parishioners about how they feel about their pastor.
It was with great delight that I had the chance to do this recently when I visited the parish of Our Lady Queen of Peace in Payneham, South Australia. The parish priest is Fr Michael Romeo, a great guy and a very dear friend, and the occasion was his 10th anniversary of ordination to the priesthood.
The church was overflowing with congregants for the Thursday evening Mass. Present were Fr Michael’s family and friends, current parishioners and those who had come from his previous parish in Penola, some four hours’ drive away. I also recognised priests from Melbourne and Sydney who had come to be there for the occasion.
It was fun to don my “mystery shopper” persona and strike up conversations with those who were at the Mass and celebrations. I was so pleased to hear them tell me of how much they loved having him as their parish priest and what a difference he had made to the community. From octogenarian nonnas to the youth group, they were glowing with praise for their beloved pastor.
In the hall afterwards, there was a long list of people who lined up to offer brief words of gratitude to Fr Michael. Family and friends, godparents, former seminary formators, parishioners old and new, staff at the parish and school, religious sisters and the parish young adults group—all of them were able to share an anecdote or two about Fr Michael’s ministry.
As I stood and listened to the speeches, I thought that I too could give such a speech. Fr Michael—a Catholic Weekly reader—phoned me out of the blue one day to see if I would come to Adelaide to give a talk in his parish. His warmth and generosity of spirit meant that we became fast friends. Over the years, he has been a source of wise counsel and prayers, incredible hospitality and friendship, faithful witness and encouragement and many good laughs. Through him, I also gained the opportunity to get to know and become friends with a number of his priestly brothers from Adelaide as well. Their friendship too has been a true grace.
In many ways, Fr Michael is exceptional. In many ways, though, there is really nothing that differentiates him from the thousands of other priests serving around Australia, whether they’ve been at it for more than 60 years or fewer than one. I could have written this column about any number of priests, but Fr Michael’s the one who gets to suffer the embarrassment of a glowing tribute. He can blame his parishioners!
In parishes across this Great South Land of the Holy Spirit we are truly spoiled with some great spiritual fathers. Like checkout chicks, priests are there to serve all-comers, and receive their fair share of burnout, discouragement and rudeness. If you love your priest and your parish, don’t be a “mystery shopper.” Let them know.