A few minutes after talking to a new person I inevitably get asked, “Where are you from?” Apparently I have an accent. I was even asked this by a deaf man who was reading my lips!!!! Since my accent is a medley of all the New England states I grew up in, I reply, “I’m from the New England area.”
Last week, this scenario repeated itself while we were at the car dealership buying our car. A man from the upstairs office was walking through the showroom. He heard me telling a story and came over to listen. As soon as I finished, the question came, “You aren’t from around here, are you? Where are you from?” I gave my usual reply.
It was what happened next that rocked my world (in a good way). He went on to explain that the best friend he had ever had was from New England. My accent, fast talking, and use of my hands while I talk reminded him so much of his friend, he told me. And then, he said, “I really like people from that area. They say it like it is. They hate phony, fake, insincere anything. Yep, you always know where you stand with a New Englander! “
My husband laughed and replied (his usual comment), “My wife, people either love her or they hate her- there is no in between.” And we all laughed as I agreed with him. I have had sooooo many problems with people since I moved west. The judgments that have been passed on my words and actions have confused and overwhelmed me time and time again.
When I was working as an apartment manager, my supervisor mentioned several times that if I didn’t stop doing what I was doing I would lose my job. I would ask her to tell me what I was doing. Her reply was you know. No, I didn’t know. The main office told me that my e-mails were rude. I thought they were short, to the point and professional. After I did get fired I realized that they had expected me to lie, falsify records and NOT do the things I was told to do. They only told me to do those things to cover their butts. I wasn’t really supposed to comply.
But being direct, honest, hard working and not knowing how to play games is in my blood!!! It comes from generations of New Englanders, that chance conversation reminded me that I am a blue blooded Yankee and proud of it. We are direct and honest but we can be because we have no ulterior motives! We say exactly the way we see a situation and expect others to do the same.
I remembered my last visit home. I felt so comfortable again. I no longer had the sense of dread and unease I often have among people here where I feel like a bull in the proverbial china shop and I have to figure out what someone REALLY means.
Here is a conversation that took place with some friends in Maine- they asked about my ex-husband. I mentioned that I don’t actually see him face to face very often. Most of our interactions are done on the phone. I said that on the few times I see him, my first thought is how old and fat he looks. My friends took one good look at me and replied, “Who are you to talk?”
At this point, I started laughing and said, “Yep, that’s always my second thought!” We laughed together and moved on to another subject. It was an open, honest interaction with no offense meant and none taken. That’s the Yankee way. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
Last week, this scenario repeated itself while we were at the car dealership buying our car. A man from the upstairs office was walking through the showroom. He heard me telling a story and came over to listen. As soon as I finished, the question came, “You aren’t from around here, are you? Where are you from?” I gave my usual reply.
It was what happened next that rocked my world (in a good way). He went on to explain that the best friend he had ever had was from New England. My accent, fast talking, and use of my hands while I talk reminded him so much of his friend, he told me. And then, he said, “I really like people from that area. They say it like it is. They hate phony, fake, insincere anything. Yep, you always know where you stand with a New Englander! “
My husband laughed and replied (his usual comment), “My wife, people either love her or they hate her- there is no in between.” And we all laughed as I agreed with him. I have had sooooo many problems with people since I moved west. The judgments that have been passed on my words and actions have confused and overwhelmed me time and time again.
When I was working as an apartment manager, my supervisor mentioned several times that if I didn’t stop doing what I was doing I would lose my job. I would ask her to tell me what I was doing. Her reply was you know. No, I didn’t know. The main office told me that my e-mails were rude. I thought they were short, to the point and professional. After I did get fired I realized that they had expected me to lie, falsify records and NOT do the things I was told to do. They only told me to do those things to cover their butts. I wasn’t really supposed to comply.
But being direct, honest, hard working and not knowing how to play games is in my blood!!! It comes from generations of New Englanders, that chance conversation reminded me that I am a blue blooded Yankee and proud of it. We are direct and honest but we can be because we have no ulterior motives! We say exactly the way we see a situation and expect others to do the same.
I remembered my last visit home. I felt so comfortable again. I no longer had the sense of dread and unease I often have among people here where I feel like a bull in the proverbial china shop and I have to figure out what someone REALLY means.
Here is a conversation that took place with some friends in Maine- they asked about my ex-husband. I mentioned that I don’t actually see him face to face very often. Most of our interactions are done on the phone. I said that on the few times I see him, my first thought is how old and fat he looks. My friends took one good look at me and replied, “Who are you to talk?”
At this point, I started laughing and said, “Yep, that’s always my second thought!” We laughed together and moved on to another subject. It was an open, honest interaction with no offense meant and none taken. That’s the Yankee way. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
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