The Daily Triangle

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by Laura

For the past 7 years, I tended not to believe the standard characterization of New Yorkers as loud, brash, pushy, and well, just not all that kind and gracious. I considered myself to be a New Yorker, and my cold, tough city heart had the capacity to melt – for example, if I saw a puppy, or perhaps a rainbow. I worked in schools, and for a nonprofit.  I was a genuine do-gooder!

Strengthening my case, I have many lovely friends who also seem to have risen above the negative stereotypes. NYC has a diversity of personalities, which are just a little more … intense. Driven! Passionate!

Well, I was wrong.  New Yorkers are not nice.  People in North Carolina are nice. Exponentially friendlier.  Almost human.  

This was illustrated by a recent visit to the DMV in Durham.  Have you ever met a DMV employee with a sunny disposition?  Of course not.  Usually you walk away with the distinct impression that “The Simpsons” hit the nail on the head with their characterization of Marge’s state employee sisters, the saltiest cartoon characters in existence.  

During the course of getting a new license, my helpful guide:

a – gave me the answers to part of the sign identification when I became flustered for a second. (In my defense, I did know that it was a railroad sign, but it’s confusing when they show you just the blank circle, okay?!)

b – told me she was sure I would do really well on the computer test, since I was a very smart girl.

c – complimented my necklace 3 times.

d – spent an extra 5 minutes making sure that my photo looked decent.

e – agreed that the thought of organ donation was just too creepy.

(Although her main fear was that her organs would go to someone she didn’t like.  The examples she gave were someone who was “real gossipy” and who “cut others down”.  Apparently she would rather see people like that die.)

f – declared that I was, myself, “just so nice!” (probably for humoring all of the previous topics of conversation)

Now, perhaps this whole ordeal took almost two hours even though there were only about 10 people in the waiting area, and perhaps I got home and noticed that my name was misspelled, so now I have to go back and fix it … but overall, the experience was nothing short of pleasant. 

In fact, Harold and I even witnessed an absolutely hysterical exchange between the DMV and a young man who wasn’t sure if he was a sex offender, during which they treated him with courtesy and didn’t laugh once, not even after he left.  It turns out that the man had become confused by a form all license applicants must sign that explains North Carolina’s use of the national sex offender registry.  When he saw this, he thought it meant that he had actually been convicted of such a crime:

DMV guy:  Sir, do you think that you’re a sex offender, or was it just this form that you saw?

Sketchy Man (shifting back and forth):  Um…well, how would you know if you were actually a sex offender?

DMV guy:  Um…I think you were just confused by the form.  Let’s just leave it at that unless you hear otherwise.

Each day, I have to remind myself that people here say hello in passing and ask how you’re doing, even when they don’t know you from Adam.  I have to push myself to do that too, so I don’t seem like a snob.

I must show them that despite my lack of a drawl, at heart, I’m on my way to becoming a reformed Yankee!