From my first visit to Texas, I have been struck by how differently
people communicate here.
“Texas Talk” is flowery, an elaborate exchanging of
compliments. It is indirect. Because people don’t say what they mean, they can end
up in situations none of them want. This actually has a name: the Abilene paradox.
People are compelled to chat here. When I am walking my
dog, people have stopped their cars to
say, “That sure is a purty dog.”
Texans are driven to connect. They will ask you questions
until they can say something like “Oh! Your husband went to the same elementary
school as my cousin.” This makes them happy.
Of course, New Yorkers are famous for their way of
speaking – or rather, not speaking. Duane Reade cashiers, in particular, can
process an entire transaction without speaking to, or even looking at, you.
I watched a recent Texas transplant in an Upper West Side
coffee shop: she was asking each of her children what they wanted and was attempting
to charm the guy behind the counter. You could almost see the steam coming out
his ears. The line was backing up behind her. But this same guy had my order ready
every morning as my son and I walked in. And once, when my husband, a more
experienced Texan transplant, quickly said he liked the music playing, there
was a CD of that music on my tray the next morning.
It’s not that New Yorkers won’t help. Ask for directions
on the street and you will soon have a cluster around you, arguing over what
the best route is, confusing you entirely.
In a densely populated environment, not always talking is the polite thing, while in a spread-out one,
connecting is.
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