Friday, October 07, 2005
I'll take Oklahoma
By the Erudite Redneck
A couple of years ago, at a drug store just off Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. ...
Me: "Howdy. How're you? I am flat out JONESING for some nicotine, ha, ha."
Scowling man behind counter: "Grrr."
Bird: Rolls eyes, at me.
Me: "Y'all got any of that nicotine gum? I see you do. Well, I can't see that far, so I can't tell which one I want, really, blue or green. I want the 2-milligram, regular, not mint."
Scowling man behind counter: "Grunt."
Bird: Rolls eyes, at me.
Me: "Well, can you let me see one each of the boxes, so I can tell which one I need?"
Scowling man behind counter: "Grrr. Rowr. Grumble. No. If I take it off the shelf, you have to buy it."
Bird: Growing anxious.
Me, thinking, "Bull shit," but conscious of Bird's suddenly rapid breathing and my own reddening neck: "Well, then give me the green box, but please make sure it's 2 milligram."
He grabs the box, and stuffs it in a plastic bag. I pay. Outside, I tear into the bag and see that it's mint, which I didn't want. Whatever.
Bird: "People don't know how to react to you."
Me: "Well, hell, I was just makin' conversation."
Bird: "They don't do that here."
Indeed.
Compare with ...
Just now, at a Walgreens here in a "suburb" -- that's giving it more credit than it deserves -- outside Oklahoma City.
Woman, walkin' by as a I pluck a pint of peanut butter ice cream off the refrigerated shelf: "You got some good stuff, there!"
Me: "Yep. You caught me cheatin'!"
Both of us: "Ha, ha, ha!"
Me, at the front counter: "Hey."
Young woman behind counter: "Hey."
Me, lookin' at the bundles of cigars on the wall behind her: "I need some of them maduros. They're the dark ones, second from the left."
She retrieves them and puts 'em on the counter.
Me: "I know it's counterintuitive (yes, I said "counterintuitive," for I am, after all, an erudite redneck) but I also need a pack of nicotine gum. But I can't ever remember which one I use. Let me come back there so I can see."
Young woman: "OK."
I step around the counter, glance up, grab the gum I need, step back around the counter and put the gum down next to the cigars.
Me: "This stuff," I say, pickin' up the the nicotine gum," keeps me off the Copenhagen. "These," I say, pickin' up the cigars, "are just for fun."
Young woman, in the melodious twangy drawl of southeastern Oklahoma, called "Little Dixie," where all the females sound like Reba McEntire: "Well, I figured they were just for fun, or somethin'. For looks. Social smokin' or something."
Me, fairly meltin' in my boots: "Well, not quite. But you don't inhale cigars. Anybody who inhales cigars is a fool."
Young woman, out of the blue: "Oh! I've got a gray hair!"
Me: "Do what? No way! What are you 23? You can't have a gray hair."
Young woman: "I'm 22. I've got a gray hair. I was blonde my whole life, but I've been brunette for the past couple of years. Now I've got a gray hair!"
Me: "Naaah. Maybe it's just a blonde one tryin' to be free."
Young woman: "Humph."
She says something about "back home."
Me: "Where's home?"
Young woman: "McCurtain County."
Me: "Whereabouts?"
Young woman: "Well I went to grade school at Valliant (population 771 -- ER) then we moved to Broken Bow (population 4,230 -- ER), but I graduated high school in Tulsa (population about 400,000 -- ER)."
Me: "I damn near took a job at the newspaper at Valliant, many moons ago, when I was desperate and right out of college. Now I work at --------. I moved up."
Young woman: "Ha, ha, nobody reads it," meaning the little-bitty paper at little-bitty Valliant.
Me: "Aww, now. It serves a purpose."
Young woman: "I went from a class of 70 at Broken Bow to a class of 2,000 at Tulsa."
Me: "Boy! You went from the small town of Valliant to the metropolis of Broken Bow, to the megalopolis of Tulsa! My daughter graduated from ---- ---- ----- with a class about that size (about 2,000). She can't even imagine my own class. Back in the day, I graduated from ---- (population then about 1,500), with a class of 106 -- and the only reason it was that big is because two K-8 school fed into it!"
Young woman: "My mama graduated from Eagletown (population 1,161, now), with a class of 30-something!"
Both of us: "Ha, ha, ha."
Me, pickin' up sack of cigars and gum, havin' paid: "Well, thanks. See ya."
Young woman: "Thanks! You have a good night!"
Me: "You bet."
I love Washington, D.C. It's a fine place to visit. But for livin' I'll take Oklahoma.
END
A couple of years ago, at a drug store just off Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. ...
Me: "Howdy. How're you? I am flat out JONESING for some nicotine, ha, ha."
Scowling man behind counter: "Grrr."
Bird: Rolls eyes, at me.
Me: "Y'all got any of that nicotine gum? I see you do. Well, I can't see that far, so I can't tell which one I want, really, blue or green. I want the 2-milligram, regular, not mint."
Scowling man behind counter: "Grunt."
Bird: Rolls eyes, at me.
Me: "Well, can you let me see one each of the boxes, so I can tell which one I need?"
Scowling man behind counter: "Grrr. Rowr. Grumble. No. If I take it off the shelf, you have to buy it."
Bird: Growing anxious.
Me, thinking, "Bull shit," but conscious of Bird's suddenly rapid breathing and my own reddening neck: "Well, then give me the green box, but please make sure it's 2 milligram."
He grabs the box, and stuffs it in a plastic bag. I pay. Outside, I tear into the bag and see that it's mint, which I didn't want. Whatever.
Bird: "People don't know how to react to you."
Me: "Well, hell, I was just makin' conversation."
Bird: "They don't do that here."
Indeed.
Compare with ...
Just now, at a Walgreens here in a "suburb" -- that's giving it more credit than it deserves -- outside Oklahoma City.
Woman, walkin' by as a I pluck a pint of peanut butter ice cream off the refrigerated shelf: "You got some good stuff, there!"
Me: "Yep. You caught me cheatin'!"
Both of us: "Ha, ha, ha!"
Me, at the front counter: "Hey."
Young woman behind counter: "Hey."
Me, lookin' at the bundles of cigars on the wall behind her: "I need some of them maduros. They're the dark ones, second from the left."
She retrieves them and puts 'em on the counter.
Me: "I know it's counterintuitive (yes, I said "counterintuitive," for I am, after all, an erudite redneck) but I also need a pack of nicotine gum. But I can't ever remember which one I use. Let me come back there so I can see."
Young woman: "OK."
I step around the counter, glance up, grab the gum I need, step back around the counter and put the gum down next to the cigars.
Me: "This stuff," I say, pickin' up the the nicotine gum," keeps me off the Copenhagen. "These," I say, pickin' up the cigars, "are just for fun."
Young woman, in the melodious twangy drawl of southeastern Oklahoma, called "Little Dixie," where all the females sound like Reba McEntire: "Well, I figured they were just for fun, or somethin'. For looks. Social smokin' or something."
Me, fairly meltin' in my boots: "Well, not quite. But you don't inhale cigars. Anybody who inhales cigars is a fool."
Young woman, out of the blue: "Oh! I've got a gray hair!"
Me: "Do what? No way! What are you 23? You can't have a gray hair."
Young woman: "I'm 22. I've got a gray hair. I was blonde my whole life, but I've been brunette for the past couple of years. Now I've got a gray hair!"
Me: "Naaah. Maybe it's just a blonde one tryin' to be free."
Young woman: "Humph."
She says something about "back home."
Me: "Where's home?"
Young woman: "McCurtain County."
Me: "Whereabouts?"
Young woman: "Well I went to grade school at Valliant (population 771 -- ER) then we moved to Broken Bow (population 4,230 -- ER), but I graduated high school in Tulsa (population about 400,000 -- ER)."
Me: "I damn near took a job at the newspaper at Valliant, many moons ago, when I was desperate and right out of college. Now I work at --------. I moved up."
Young woman: "Ha, ha, nobody reads it," meaning the little-bitty paper at little-bitty Valliant.
Me: "Aww, now. It serves a purpose."
Young woman: "I went from a class of 70 at Broken Bow to a class of 2,000 at Tulsa."
Me: "Boy! You went from the small town of Valliant to the metropolis of Broken Bow, to the megalopolis of Tulsa! My daughter graduated from ---- ---- ----- with a class about that size (about 2,000). She can't even imagine my own class. Back in the day, I graduated from ---- (population then about 1,500), with a class of 106 -- and the only reason it was that big is because two K-8 school fed into it!"
Young woman: "My mama graduated from Eagletown (population 1,161, now), with a class of 30-something!"
Both of us: "Ha, ha, ha."
Me, pickin' up sack of cigars and gum, havin' paid: "Well, thanks. See ya."
Young woman: "Thanks! You have a good night!"
Me: "You bet."
I love Washington, D.C. It's a fine place to visit. But for livin' I'll take Oklahoma.
END
Comments:
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If I may: If you were being "friendly" just off DuPont Circle, it's possible that guy behind the counter thunk you wuz gay and hittin' on him.
Difference bein', not location so much as, the gender of the other folks on the other end of the conversation.
If I may.
Difference bein', not location so much as, the gender of the other folks on the other end of the conversation.
If I may.
# posted by 
: 10:13 PM
: 10:13 PM
My dad had 4 in his graduating class. My mom had 8 in hers. My dad's reunion was held in some lady's living room. There were 552 in my graduating class.
Naw, ain't just gender, it's culture and geography. If you had been in Baltimore the conversation might have gone closer to that of the OKC' sub-burb. Baltimore, even being North of D.C., is a Southern town. But D.C., well there are people there from all 50 states and at least 160 countries or so talking and thinking and driving and doing like they did back home. I've spent many a day and night in, around, and about Dupont Circle, and even being where I'm from if I was there and didn't know you and you tried to talk with me that way, well it wouldn't have gone well. Now you want real rejection try NYC or Boston. By the way it was probably against union rules for the clerk to re-shelve the gum once he had picked it up. He would have been doing someone else's job.
# posted by : 10:35 PM
: 10:35 PM
It is culture and geography, but I'll tell you: I've had extremely friendly, casual conversations with shopkeepers in places from NYC to Seattle to LA. And in a lot of supposedly "friendly" places, I've tried to chitty-chat just to have folks freeze up on me and give me the evil eye.
It's not a question of friendly vs. unfriendly; it's a question of *how* one is friendly. What kinds of things one uses for an opening, tone of voice, prolly body language, etc. Some places, you comment on what someone's buying or selling, they take offense. Some places they'll agree with you and start a conversation. Some places, talk about the weather is great; others, people think it's the lamest topic ever and will just roll their eyes.
And you can never discount the possibility that an unfriendly person is just having a bad day ;)
It's not a question of friendly vs. unfriendly; it's a question of *how* one is friendly. What kinds of things one uses for an opening, tone of voice, prolly body language, etc. Some places, you comment on what someone's buying or selling, they take offense. Some places they'll agree with you and start a conversation. Some places, talk about the weather is great; others, people think it's the lamest topic ever and will just roll their eyes.
And you can never discount the possibility that an unfriendly person is just having a bad day ;)
bitchphd is right, I have been to many parts of the country and met some of the most helpful and friendly people in areas not normally known as being ‘easy going’. Maybe it is because of my sunny and laid-back attitude, but I am not so consumed by ego to think that is always the case.
In general, it seems to be also a case of geography. People seem to be friendlier in places where the collective blood pressure is at a tad lower level. That is true in Southeastern Oklahoma, I agree. My brother-in-law and sister, after living all over the country, have moved back to his hometown of Durant, OK.
I have had the pleasure of visiting them many times in the last two years and find that the people there are some of the most genuinely friendly I have ever met.
I have even passed Reba McEntire rode, near her childhood home, between McAlester and Durant. It looked like a friendly little road!
In general, it seems to be also a case of geography. People seem to be friendlier in places where the collective blood pressure is at a tad lower level. That is true in Southeastern Oklahoma, I agree. My brother-in-law and sister, after living all over the country, have moved back to his hometown of Durant, OK.
I have had the pleasure of visiting them many times in the last two years and find that the people there are some of the most genuinely friendly I have ever met.
I have even passed Reba McEntire rode, near her childhood home, between McAlester and Durant. It looked like a friendly little road!
Anon, maybe HE was gay and I am so plainly NOT, and, in fact, am so exuberant in my display of social and personal characteristics normally associated with bein' ANTI-gay (read: redneck) that in that very famously gay-friendly part of D.C., he was a little uptight!
Trixie: Daddy ER graduated high school in 1932. He was the only boy in the class. Somewhere is a wonderul picture of the class: a dapper him in the middle of a line with six flappers on each side of him!
Drlobojo and B: I am often gregarious to the pint of annoyance, wherever I am! And at 6-foot-4, sometimes my loudness and largeness just puts people off, even if I'm smilin'.
Rebel, I was gonaa say: "took pit on us" sound nasty! :-)
MadMustard, you mean Chockie! Near Stringtown. Near Kiowa. Near Atoka. They all claim Reba!
--ER
Trixie: Daddy ER graduated high school in 1932. He was the only boy in the class. Somewhere is a wonderul picture of the class: a dapper him in the middle of a line with six flappers on each side of him!
Drlobojo and B: I am often gregarious to the pint of annoyance, wherever I am! And at 6-foot-4, sometimes my loudness and largeness just puts people off, even if I'm smilin'.
Rebel, I was gonaa say: "took pit on us" sound nasty! :-)
MadMustard, you mean Chockie! Near Stringtown. Near Kiowa. Near Atoka. They all claim Reba!
--ER
From the other side of the counter...the best customers I've ever dealt with were at a college bookstore in Oregon. No matter how long the lines were or how slowly they were moving, folks just chatted with those around 'em and were perfectly polite when they got to the counter.
On the other hand, at the library here in Oklahoma I quite often get folks who don't even reply when I greet them. The "bad day" thing applies to customers as well as clerks, but it's still weird to ask someone a direct question and get absolutely no response.
Oh--132 in my high school class.
On the other hand, at the library here in Oklahoma I quite often get folks who don't even reply when I greet them. The "bad day" thing applies to customers as well as clerks, but it's still weird to ask someone a direct question and get absolutely no response.
Oh--132 in my high school class.
I think one of my Irish ancestors must have kissed the Blarney stone because I can talk to anyone, anywhere, and they almost always are friendly. But outside of Oklahoma (or other southernish states) I usually have to say something first; people are more reserved.
There are a lot of people in this state who think nothing of smiling and having a brief conversation with someone who is just passing by.
There are a lot of people in this state who think nothing of smiling and having a brief conversation with someone who is just passing by.
You could easily say that you just got one asshole on a bad night and a lady who was hitting on you and had nothing else better to do.
Now turn the tables around and put me (non-skoal can back pocket from Chicago) and put me in that small store asking if they have any Belgian ale and see if the response I get isn't similar to your reception in DC.
I am not saying DC isn't a shit hole. However, I would rather visit my local liquor store here who has the same guy (owner / family owned) behind the counter every time I come in who knows exactly what kind of beers I like and will special order them for me if I ask, as opposed to some high school drop out with 6 kids at home who works nights at the 7/11 (chain) in the middle of Kentucky which will get a new cashier every 3 weeks and who can't even figure out how to ring something up manually.
The point is everyone treats outsiders differently from now they would treat their own kind.
Now turn the tables around and put me (non-skoal can back pocket from Chicago) and put me in that small store asking if they have any Belgian ale and see if the response I get isn't similar to your reception in DC.
I am not saying DC isn't a shit hole. However, I would rather visit my local liquor store here who has the same guy (owner / family owned) behind the counter every time I come in who knows exactly what kind of beers I like and will special order them for me if I ask, as opposed to some high school drop out with 6 kids at home who works nights at the 7/11 (chain) in the middle of Kentucky which will get a new cashier every 3 weeks and who can't even figure out how to ring something up manually.
The point is everyone treats outsiders differently from now they would treat their own kind.
Toad, But I didn't.
I'm thinkin' that if you came into the Walgreens here with a I'm-from-Chicago-WTF-am-I-doing-here-in-this-backward-hellhole-called-Oklahoma attitude, with a chip on your shoulder as big as Lake Michigan, as I suspect you might, yeah, we'd treat you like you deserved. Not as an outsider, 'cause we like outsiders, really. But as a jerk with a chip on his shoulder. Hell's bells, dude, askin' for Belgian ale in a chain pharmacy in a state where beer is 3.2 and strong stuff is sold only in "package stores" would get you off on the wrong foot. :-) Likewise, if I country-bumped my way into a Chicago deli, askin' for a spit cup, wonderin' where the bijou was, I'd be askin' for shit.
--ER
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I'm thinkin' that if you came into the Walgreens here with a I'm-from-Chicago-WTF-am-I-doing-here-in-this-backward-hellhole-called-Oklahoma attitude, with a chip on your shoulder as big as Lake Michigan, as I suspect you might, yeah, we'd treat you like you deserved. Not as an outsider, 'cause we like outsiders, really. But as a jerk with a chip on his shoulder. Hell's bells, dude, askin' for Belgian ale in a chain pharmacy in a state where beer is 3.2 and strong stuff is sold only in "package stores" would get you off on the wrong foot. :-) Likewise, if I country-bumped my way into a Chicago deli, askin' for a spit cup, wonderin' where the bijou was, I'd be askin' for shit.
--ER
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