She Earned Her Name, Apparently

My friend has German heritage but grew up in a heavily Hispanic neighborhood in Southern California. His mother regularly shopped at a carniceria (butcher’s shop) local to her for unusual cuts she could not get at a regular grocery store. She had a great relationship with the workers and managers at the carniceria, but she also had a wicked sense of humor.

One day she goes to pick up some meat for her family’s dinner.

Butcher: “Hola, Señora [Mother’s Last Name]! Cómo está, and what can I get for you?”

Mother: “Hola, [Butcher]. Could I have [order]?”

She gets what she wants, goes to the checkout, and happily pays for her groceries. The manager of the day is a son of the owner.

Manager: “Hola, Señora [Mother’s Last Name]! Did you find everything you needed today?”

Mother: “Oh, yes. And your butchers are always so nice! It’s great to be a regular in a neighborhood place like this! They always say, ‘Hello, gringa loca [crazy white lady],’ and I just think that’s so nice!”

The manager absolutely blanched, and my friend’s mother had to explain that it was a joke and that the butchers were not unprofessional after all.