Being a southwesterner, I will admit to being a little annoyed with people from “The South” who don’t think the southwest is part of the “real” South. When pressed, they usually admit to being from “the southeast”.
Once, however, I got my own back. I was at a snooty upper class bank in the southeast, hoping to make a bank transfer. The secretary who saw me had her nose up in the air, since I wasn’t from one of the prominent families of the area.
She asked several borderline impertinent questions, but then made a fatal boo-boo. She noticed that I was from Arizona, so made a sneering comment, “You’re from Arizona? Are you a Yankee?”
Instantly, I hopped to my feet, and in my best impression of Foghorn Leghorn in a rare rage, I yelled, “A YANKEE!?!”
Within one and a half heartbeats, the bank manager was there, looking quite scared, and nervously said, “Is there a problem, Suh?”
“This...woman...called me a YANKEE!”
I think I saw the blood leave his face, accompanied by a look of sheer horror.
Needless to say, amid profuse and excessive apologies, my wire transfer was done immediately. I also have a feeling that that secretary’s day had just taken a strong turn for the worse.