Thursday, September 23, 2004

The people in my neighborhood...

Let me start by saying that there was no way that Sesame Street's little ditty could have prepared me for life in Oklahoma.
I often get asked, by my friends on the East Coast, "what's it like in Oklahoma?" I hope that these little vignettes will provide some insight into middle America, and the culture shock I have experienced.

Getting an Oil Change

One thing I will say for the folks out here is that occasionally they will go out of their way to be accommodating. I can't express to you how much I enjoy people going out of their way to help me, so you'll just have to believe me when I say that it ranks up there with brownies for breakfast and foot rubs for no reason.
I drive a little German car, which is unusual in this state. I have actually had Oklahoman oil-change guys tell me that I should "git rid of that thang and buy American". But not the guys at Pappy's. That's right--I get my oil changed at a place called "Pappy's", and it just so happens that they also sell barbecued brisket--so that if the line is long and you're feeling hungry, you can get a bite to eat while you wait. Which, to a pregnant woman, is pure genius.
So, I roll into Pappy's one fine summer morning to get my oil changed. And since it has been a while (far too long to admit in writing), I decide they should probably change the filter, too. Well, seeing as how I drive an "unusual car" they don't stock the filter that my little vehicle needs. Now, I don't know about you, but when I hear the words "we don't have that in stock" I expect that to be the end of it. But not at Pappy's! They call the local auto parts store and arrange to have the proper filter delivered while I wait! These people are my new best friends. Do you know of a place that would do that for you?
Of course, these are the same folks that stand around smoking while they work. So I am risking my life every time I get my oil changed, but it's a small price to pay to be treated like royalty.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You have to forgive my daughter, middle America. My wife and I made the lifestyle choice to relocate from Alabma to the Washington DC metro area when Kara was relatively young and still sheltered from dealing with the day-to-day world. While I know about southern hospitality (and that customer service like Pappy's is a norm), she has only known the kind of self-important ego-centric attitude that pervades the social interaction between people here in DC - this land is the land of "hey, me first." It tends to warp your perception of what is normal. In example, I remember a scene from when she couldn't have been much older than ten. I thought I would give her an opportunity for one of those "grown up" moments by letting her pay for her own candy in the grocery store checkout line. You know, build her self-confidence and begin teaching her to deal with real life. As she fumbled a little with her change, the line grew restive and some selfish idiot woman started making noises like "What's the hold up?!" and "This is unbelievable!" Instead of making a scene I let it play out. Kara steeled herself, completed the transaction and as we left I told her not to pay attention to jerks - she'd done fine. She internalized something, though. A few years ago while fumbling myself with a wad of bills stuffed in my pocket, her advice to me was a curt "you need to organize your money better." She's a DC girl, you know.

Kara's Da