Calling The Manager (Southern) Bell
Reading this story reminded me of my own store manager. Miss Patty (not her real name, but the image you get from it is accurate). She’s a steel magnolia in pearls and lipstick that doesn’t move. Her blood is iced tea that’s just a few degrees above absolute zero.
It’s late summer in the South; hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. A woman storms in, dragging one of those wheeled beach coolers behind her. She slams the cooler onto the counter.
Customer: “This thing’s defective. I want a refund.”
Me: “Ma’am, this cooler is… full of sand.”
Customer: “Well, yeah, we took it to the beach. That’s what it’s for.”
Me: “It smells of beer.”
Customer: “Yes! Warm beer, because the ice melted! That’s the problem!”
At this point, Miss Patty manifests:
Miss Patty: “Now what seems to be the issue today?”
Customer: “Your cooler doesn’t work! It didn’t keep our drinks cold for the whole weekend, and now it’s all gross. I want a refund!”
Miss Patty inspects the mud-splattered, beer-soaked cooler, pauses, and clasps her hands in front of her.
Miss Patty: “So you put ice in it… on… Friday?”
Customer: “Yes!”
Miss Patty: “Then you took it to the beach in hundred-degree weather?”
Customer: “Yes, on Sunday!”
Miss Patty: “And you got a bee in your bonnet because it didn’t stay cold all weekend?”
Customer: “Exactly!”
There’s a long pause. Miss Patty tilts her head, folds her hands neatly on the counter, and gives the sweetest, slowest smile you ever did see.
Miss Patty: “You’re a special lil’ pumpkin, aren’t ya, hun?”
Miss Patty did allow the refund, but did so in her truly Southern Belle way.
Miss Patty: *To the customer as they’re leaving.* “Mind the door on your way out, pumpkin! Wouldn’t want it to knock any of those loose thoughts loose-er.”
Related:
These Southern Belles Need To Hang Out With The Old Scottish/Irish Women
