Someone Actually Believed I'm Nice!

I know, that is a weird headline, but for those of you who know me well - you know I have a bit of an edge, I'm fairly blunt, and sugar coating things isn't always my strongest point. Blame it on my "half breed" status... I'm half Yankee, half Southerner. Sometimes the Yankee side gets the better of me.

Growing up in the South, I rebelled against our genteel ways. I was a bookworm, but I also liked to play in the dirt. I frequently had dirt under my nails and I didn't learn how to keep my hair presentable until adulthood - and sometimes "presentable" is still a questionable term. In fact, I went through a weird stage where I didn't want my Barbies to look like Barbies so I shaved off all their hair with my mom's razor. Afraid of what she might say, I stuffed the hair down the air vent in my room. She was much more angry about the fine silky Barbie locks floating around the room than she was the spiky buzz cuts I'd given them.

Once I hit college; however, I realized that there is something to Southern Charm. And, I'll be the first to admit - I frequently use it to my full advantage.

This past weekend I attended my company's sales meeting in California. Of course I was on my best behavior, and somehow that translated to the sales rep from the Northeast territory (also female) thinking I might have a hard time. You see, we are travelling sales reps for a bridal manufacturer. Six months a year I travel a seven state territory to place gowns in bridal shops. There's a lot of rejection. There's a lot of travel through the remote hinterlands of our country. There's 3 meals a day in sometimes questionable establishments. I love it. But, I travel the South/Southwest. I understand the mentality - and the idea that someone saying "Betty Sue, bless her heart, ...." may be a nice way of saying "Betty Sue, that stupid *&%$  idiot, ... "

So, getting back to my headline - over breakfast we were talking about different situations that could hit us out on the road. My counterpart turned, looked at me and said, "Do you think you're hard enough for this type of work? I mean, you seem to be a really good salesperson, but you're just too nice." I actually dropped my fork. I think coffee may have squirted from my nose, and I died laughing.

When we got to the office that morning, I told my boss. He died laughing too. You see, he grew up in Chicago. He's a somewhat hardened LA resident now. He told us of the first trip he took to the south. He described the average middle-income southern woman - perfect make-up, perfect hair, perfect nails, impeccable clothes and stylish shoes. Always smiling, nodding, speaking softly. How on that trip, he decided those soft spoken well mannered southern ladies were probably the most ruthless, scrappy group of women on the planet.

You see, we were taught to be a genteel group. To love our families, be excellent hostesses, and keep up appearances. But, we were also taught to look out for ourselves, be fiercely independent, and not to take anything from anyone. True southern women can cook you the most excellent meal you've ever eaten, take a leisurely stroll through the garden, and then, quite possibly, sharp shoot her way out of dodge.

Afterall, isn't it the quiet ones you have to watch the most?