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Life, actually…

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FROM BUSY BUSY TO SLOW POKEDNESS, GRIT BY GRIT

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“Is this your first time here?”

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This is a question I often ask when a browser enters the bookshop not seeming to know exactly what to do next. Curious but wary is one way to put it.

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The visitor scans the highly decorated walls, teetering bookshelves and high-piled ancient merchandise in an attempt to “get the lay of the land,” as we say Down South.

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“Yes, this is my first time.”

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“Well, I’m glad you finally arrived. Been waiting for you,” I smile and send out a test palaver. Just to see whether this newbie wishes to engage further. Or to determine whether being quiet and unconversational is preferred.

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“Are you enjoying the town?” I’m always anxious to see whether newcomers are getting a positive first impression.

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“Well, I’ve only been here an hour or so…” the visitor hesitates, then reveals a first concern. “Tell me, I notice that people look directly at me and wish me Good Morning.” Another hesitation, but my inquisitive smile is encouraging. “Are they being sarcastic when they say that?”

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I’m taken aback each time this kind of nervously-asked question arises, but I am also used to receiving similar inquiries, particularly from first-timers who hail from the West Coast, Northeast or even Canada.

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I now understand what the questioner is really trying to find out: Are these locals actually friendly and engaging, or are they sending coded unwelcoming messages?

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I welcome this kind of inquiry because it gives me a small opportunity to show them what Southern Hospitality is like.

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“No,” I grin. “This is just the way most of us are brought up. Our mommas taught us to meet and greet everybody with polite salutations and helpfulness.”

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I let this sink in for a second.

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“We have this engaging way of letting you know that we actually See You, that we want to let you know we are ok. That we would like to know you better.”

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I can see the customer is taking a breath of relief, but I also know that just saying how nice we are does not offer proof that we really are.

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While the aisles are cruised, I occasionally check to see whether there are other questions. Along the way, we engage a bit more. I learn some personal history, the customer learns more about where to go and what to do in this friendly Southern village.

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Once we establish the fact that grits have never been experienced, that our kind of barbeque has not been tasted, I make sure that when the store is exited, this visitor will try us out, preferably at the next destination I recommend.

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Amazingly, this approach to greeting newbies sometimes produces positive results!

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Hours later, the not-from-around-here browser returns to the shop, big smile and pleasant tone combined.

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“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for recommending that diner. You were right—grits are tasty if they are hot and buttered and salted.” A pause. “And I met some really interesting people!”

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The visitor then disappears.

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Later, while quietly shelving books, I imagine that stories will be told back home about this Down South place and its engaging populace and delicious fattening food.

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And maybe, as the customer enthusiastically reports, just maybe, they’ll return to our village someday with family and friends and spend some more time adjusting to this slow-paced, pleasant Southern Hospitality thing

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© Jim Reed 2024 A.D.

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