“Surviving Georgia”

“Kill ‘em with kindness”. We belles are good at it. It’s been said we can stick it to ‘ya so gently you’ll be a good piece down the road before you realize you’ve been stuck. Let me give you an example.

My friend Georgia runs a little seafood place in the Big Easy. Georgia’s husband left her years ago with three toddlers and a floundering restaurant. The next few years were tough, but Georgia is a survivor! Today, her place is a popular tourist stop, and Georgia—well, she’s earned the right to relax a little. She said she no longer feels she has to take whatever the public dishes out.

The last time I was down, Georgia and I were chatting in her office— which is what she calls the booth by the front door—when this fella came stomping in with a scowl on his face. We both watched as Georgia’s well-trained hostess put on her brightest smile and seated the antagonistic fella at the best table. Of course, it wasn’t good enough. The old grouch bellowed his disapproval. Georgia’s hostess calmly allowed him to choose another booth.

Georgia excused herself. “I’m sorry Shellie, but I think I’ll tend to this one myself.” She waved the waiter off and made her way to Mr. Happy’s table. He couldn’t have been there for more than a minute when she got to him. She gave him her best Georgia smile and coated her voice with sugar in a preemptive strike, “Hi there, my name is Georgia and I’ll be your waitress for the evening.”

“It’s about time!” the man growled. “Do you people serve crabs here?”

“Why certainly sugar,” Georgia cooed. “This is the South. We serve everybody!”