what we have here is a failure to communicate

Ever had one of those days when you feel like, no matter how clearly and concisely you're expressing yourself, and however logical and reasonable your ideas sound to you inside your head, the moment you try to communicate those ideas to other people they look at you as if you're speaking gibberish or like you're out of your mind? While I have had a number of these days right in my home town, a recent experience suggests to me that by moving several states south I'm letting myself in for a lot more of them.

Mind you, coastal Virginia doesn't consider itself southern. Why, we're just two hours south of D.C, they say. Now, if you go inland from us, then you'll see something. There's this travel-west-to-get-south mentality that seems just about as logical as the Michigan theory that Indiana is the armpit of the universe (which, despite the facts that I myself have Indiana ancestors and can find no explanation for it in personal experience, I feel profoundly and fervently believe).

Anyway, in anticipation of our pending visit to Newport News, I called a management company hoping to set up a couple of apartment showings so we could get a feel for the type of apartment we might rent, what we can get for our money and so on. Now, I don't know if it's company policy, state law or something in between, but the receptionist very quickly made it clear to me that they couldn't show me anything that's coming available in August, but instead only what's available right now. I tried to emphasize that that was okay, that I was just trying to get a feel for the area, but she got downright snippy with me, saying that her company did not traffic in cookie-cutter residences (which was why I called them in the first place, by the way), but that she would put me through to a man named Billy, who might be able to assist me further. So she put me through to Billy, who said, "This is John, how can I help you," which I guess is just how they do things in Virginia, and he continued to address me as a pushy, uppity damn Yankee with a question that was both odd and unreasonable.

Eventually we came to understand one another, a little, I think, and Billy-John agreed to let me give him a holler when I'm in town. I'm thinking and hoping that this is all in my head, and that my misfire with Billy-John and company was not a consequence of my saying "you guys" instead of "y'all" (which I heard myself do at least twice) but instead just one of those things.