Yankees that move to the South are easily and
happily charmed by Southern ways. They learn quickly that “Southern
Hospitality” isn’t a slogan dreamed up by Nashville’s The Buntin Group. It’s as
real as genuine biscuits and gravy. A Northerner doesn’t have to be here long
to learn (and occasionally use) Southern speak either. A shopping cart becomes
a buggy in no time. And when a friend says, “I might could do that,” you don’t
even think twice about the sentence’s peculiar construction.
But one thing Yankees are slow to adjust to is
learning the code for the “Southern No.” It took me years to even recognize
that such a thing exists. Trust me, it does. Southerners loathe saying no to
anyone. It just feels wrong. I’ve learned that a Southerner will go to great
lengths to avoid saying no to a business or social proposition.
That doesn’t mean they say yes to everything,
though. Not by a long shot. You know a Southerner has said no to you when they
don’t get back to you. Yes, they will promise to do so. They will even be
encouraging as they make their promises. What they won’t do is actually tell
you, sorry, no. I’m not interested. They don’t want to hurt your feelings,
another admirable Southern trait. For Northerners schooled in the art of blunt refusals,
like “Get lost,” “Get real” and “Get outta here,” the Southern No can be
frustrating to put it mildly. Up North, it doesn’t feel impolite to say no when
you’re not interested. It saves time.
Truth be told, not many of us suffer nervous breakdowns when we are told
no. We simply move on.
Living in the Nashville area, there have been
occasions when Southerners have silently refused me. For the longest time I
assumed (in stages) that some people here are very busy, or maybe just lazy. I
wondered too if it might be possible that a few of them are not gentleman or ladies
in the Margaret Mitchell tradition.
I finally broke the code, accidentally I’m sure,
when I pitched the editor of an online newspaper on the idea of doing book
reviews by local authors. I got the full treatment. He said he liked the idea.
He asked me to send him some writing samples. Naturally, I was excited. I
complied eagerly with his request. Nothing happened. I called him. He was
friendly, apologetic even. He’d been very busy, but he assured me he would
review my proposal that very afternoon, over the weekend at the latest!
Again, nothing happened. Was he kidnapped? Perhaps
there was a car accident? Maybe he got a sudden itch to travel and took off for
Thailand. Maybe the idea isn’t that good, or my writing, perish the thought,
isn’t strong enough. Could that be it? I
wonder if he was concerned that a guy like me would be crushed by the bad news,
even if it was a short and sweet, “sorry, not for us.”
I am sure this custom works well for the
natives. They learn it early in life. That’s just how it’s done here and I see
no reason to change it. Being direct is being aggressive, and unpleasant. But
it is hard on transplants. We like closure. We thrive on it. Getting a Southern
No means never knowing for sure; it means checking for emails long after your
idea’s expiration date.
I suppose I should have learned the code sooner.
After all, I’ve lived in the South for 21 years now. But Southerners tend to
keep some traditions to themselves, like a good barbecue recipe. So then, if
you’re new to the South, allow me to jumpstart your education. No means never
having to say so.
Posts
