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snowdarkredI was born in the South. I was raised in the South. At this moment, I live in the South.
Sadly, there are a lot of dicks in the South. Or more specifically, the suberia-stick land of the metro area, which is surprisingly dense with non-Southerners.
Anyway, I work at a restaurant, which means that a lot of those dicks act like dicks to me or to the people who work with me, because the gods know that pretending to be a decent human being for the thirty seconds it takes me to walk them to their table is far too much to ask.
Anyway, I have a method which is surprisingly affective in dealing with these unwated dicks: Act. Southern.
Say, "Can y'all follow me?" instead of "Follow me please."
Say, "Thank y'all for coming; have a nice day!" instead of "Thank you for coming; have a nice day."
Say, "Yes'm, we do do take out," instead of "Yes ma'am, we have a take out option."
Say everything in a slightly-thicker-than-I-actually-have Southern accent.
And it works! The would-be dicks automatically smiles at someone who sounds like a sweet little Southern gal, complete with small stature and crooked grin. Add in big glasses and lack of visible tattoos, and I'm set!
/godihatemyjobwhenwillthatcomicbookstorestarthiringfuckinghelliwantanewlifeshit
Meanwhile, I've started back at school, and I AM THE ONLY GIRL IN MY PRODUCTION CLASS, WTF. The amusing part is that, so far, I've had people hold doors open for me, hand me things I could have gotten myself, and been granted the sought after spot at the front of the demonstrations - probably so that the guys can eye the hole in the ass of my jeans that I've been meaning to patch forever and ever ago.
Also, my psychology prof may or may not be a bigoted asshole. (We had the nature vs. nurture debate. It wasn't pretty.)
Sadly, there are a lot of dicks in the South. Or more specifically, the suberia-stick land of the metro area, which is surprisingly dense with non-Southerners.
Anyway, I work at a restaurant, which means that a lot of those dicks act like dicks to me or to the people who work with me, because the gods know that pretending to be a decent human being for the thirty seconds it takes me to walk them to their table is far too much to ask.
Anyway, I have a method which is surprisingly affective in dealing with these unwated dicks: Act. Southern.
Say, "Can y'all follow me?" instead of "Follow me please."
Say, "Thank y'all for coming; have a nice day!" instead of "Thank you for coming; have a nice day."
Say, "Yes'm, we do do take out," instead of "Yes ma'am, we have a take out option."
Say everything in a slightly-thicker-than-I-actually-have Southern accent.
And it works! The would-be dicks automatically smiles at someone who sounds like a sweet little Southern gal, complete with small stature and crooked grin. Add in big glasses and lack of visible tattoos, and I'm set!
/godihatemyjobwhenwillthatcomicbookstorestarthiringfuckinghelliwantanewlifeshit
Meanwhile, I've started back at school, and I AM THE ONLY GIRL IN MY PRODUCTION CLASS, WTF. The amusing part is that, so far, I've had people hold doors open for me, hand me things I could have gotten myself, and been granted the sought after spot at the front of the demonstrations - probably so that the guys can eye the hole in the ass of my jeans that I've been meaning to patch forever and ever ago.
Also, my psychology prof may or may not be a bigoted asshole. (We had the nature vs. nurture debate. It wasn't pretty.)
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Date: 2010-10-05 10:40 pm (UTC)Yeah, it's magical! Just a hint of Southern twang, and they just...collapse and smile. It's kinda like brainwashing. :P