I'm Southern
I try very hard to come across as a professional in my position. I mean, really, I do the purchasing for a 20 million dollar company. I run my own business part time, and I've hob-nobbed with some of the most powerful names across several industries over the last 20 years of my professional careers (I'm on, what, #7 now).
I have backwoods roots. You know the kind - NE Georgia on one side, NC mountains on another, country bumpkins throughout several previous generations with only a smattering of low-brow English immigration in the last 8 or so generations with the remainder being either from Kentucky (no wonder I like bourbon!!!) or Ireland (and Guinness!!!), but I try very hard not to let them show.
There are times.
Such as when I'm on the phone with a company for the third time requesting an RGA (Return of Goods Authorization) early on a Friday morning and I'm not quite halfway through my first cup of coffee and they can't get it correct.
I may as well have played banjo music to give away just how Southern I am. BTW, I recently GAVE away both of my banjos to neighbor from . . . California. I kid you not.
Here's the rub. I used the term "y'all" in conversation with someone from Buffalo, NY.
She laughed. She called it "cute".
. . .
. . .
. . .
I told her I'm not "cute", I'm Southern.
Fiercely Southern.
Not in a hate-mongering, fly the Stars & Bars, spit tobacco in yer eye sort of fiercely Southern.
Just Southern with some very strong opinions about the values of rural, Southern lifestyles that few people in Buffalo, NY understand and certainly fewer (especially those with nasal-intoned Buffalo accents) FROM Buffalo hold dear.
She laughed.
Heartily.
I threw in a couple more Southern-isms for her benefit, all the while maintaining my less-than-Southern accent except while providing her some mild education to counteract her stereotypical understanding of Southerners.
She came away with a brightened Friday morning and, I hope, an enlightened understanding of how not-so-backwoods, hick-ish, we Southerners have become.
It's a good thing she seemed to have "gotten it", because I would've hated to tell her to kiss my . . .
I have backwoods roots. You know the kind - NE Georgia on one side, NC mountains on another, country bumpkins throughout several previous generations with only a smattering of low-brow English immigration in the last 8 or so generations with the remainder being either from Kentucky (no wonder I like bourbon!!!) or Ireland (and Guinness!!!), but I try very hard not to let them show.
There are times.
Such as when I'm on the phone with a company for the third time requesting an RGA (Return of Goods Authorization) early on a Friday morning and I'm not quite halfway through my first cup of coffee and they can't get it correct.
I may as well have played banjo music to give away just how Southern I am. BTW, I recently GAVE away both of my banjos to neighbor from . . . California. I kid you not.
Here's the rub. I used the term "y'all" in conversation with someone from Buffalo, NY.
She laughed. She called it "cute".
. . .
. . .
. . .
I told her I'm not "cute", I'm Southern.
Fiercely Southern.
Not in a hate-mongering, fly the Stars & Bars, spit tobacco in yer eye sort of fiercely Southern.
Just Southern with some very strong opinions about the values of rural, Southern lifestyles that few people in Buffalo, NY understand and certainly fewer (especially those with nasal-intoned Buffalo accents) FROM Buffalo hold dear.
She laughed.
Heartily.
I threw in a couple more Southern-isms for her benefit, all the while maintaining my less-than-Southern accent except while providing her some mild education to counteract her stereotypical understanding of Southerners.
She came away with a brightened Friday morning and, I hope, an enlightened understanding of how not-so-backwoods, hick-ish, we Southerners have become.
It's a good thing she seemed to have "gotten it", because I would've hated to tell her to kiss my . . .
posted by Raymond at Friday, December 04, 2009
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