How to use hillbilly skills to explain to people that you aren’t a day trading drug dealer…
Click Here to see the blog that inspired this post by the interesting and dynamic Jeff Cann. Thanks Jeff!
In one of Jeff’s recent posts he talked about a family in his neighborhood that people didn’t know well. What they did know was that they didn’t leave the house for work every day, and that they gave out full sized candy bars for Halloween. The neighborhood consensus was that there were two, apparently employable, adults living with a couple of kids in this home. Neither adult left for a 9-5 work schedule, or any regular schedule for that matter. So… they must be either Day Traders or Drug Dealers. That’s when I realized that I’m in the same situation.
If you read my blog regularly, you’ve probably figured out that I work… A LOT. My daytime job is in strategy for a large insurance carrier. My part-time night job is working as an Economics teacher at a local private college. Not-Tom-Brady is a stay at home dad, or “Mr. Mom” as he calls it… as well as the Keeper of Family Sanity. He does every single thing you all hate doing on your time off so that I don’t have to do it… and I stay sane for my two jobs. I have literally never used my washer or dryer. Enough said.
This picture is totally unrelated I just love it so much.
What I haven’t told you is that I only go into the office a couple of times a month. The rest of the time I work from home. Our new home in Anytown USA has a finished basement, which is my domain during work hours. For school, about 1/3 of my classes are in person and the rest are online.
We just moved from a city to a small town. This is the first time I’ve lived in a neighborhood setting since the 1980’s. In the city, my neighbors were just happy that I wasn’t leaving garbage in their yard or assaulting them. They probably never even noticed that I didn’t leave home for work. In Anytown… not so much. Not-Tom-Brady leaves several times a day, delivering children to school in 2 different school districts, music lessons, football games, sleepovers, dog walks, picking up items from the store 10x a week, dry cleaning, post office, liquor store (jager!) and other things I have no idea about because it’s been about 6 years since I had to worry about things like this.
I think Jeff is right, the neighborhood has obviously decided that we are either day traders or drug dealers. Let’s face it, we have a decent house and decent cars. We have a package delivered from Amazon pretty much ever hour on the hour. We have no apparent set schedule. Are the neighbors peeking through the blinds whenever we leave the house to catch a glimpse of a scrap of evidence that we have gainful employment? Jeff thinks this is a yes. He’s probably right.
We met one of our neighbors on day 2. They seemed very nice. They seem understanding, but it’s hard enough (sadly) for people to understand a Mr. Mom household, but in combo with remote work for the wife, it seems to melt brains. There are two houses across the street. One is a family who appears to have a regular family schedule going on. The other house has at least 6 cars in the driveway at all times, with no sign of a normal schedule. These are either “our people” OR they are day trading drug dealers. My neighbor that I met asked me if I thought it was a boarding house. What I didn’t say out loud, but was thinking, is that it’s probably a meth lab. I imagine them at the dinner table tonight asking themselves if WE have the meth lab. I’m not that interesting… are they?
The people across the street?
We are in a small town. People talk in small towns. I’m just getting to know a very small handful of people but I’m getting there. We went to the local Chinese food restaurant last weekend. We walked in to pick up our order and the owner said “Marie”? Clearly very obvious I’m the only person who has a name he didn’t recognize or a face he didn’t recognize. I tried to have a “productive member of society” look on my face. I’m not sure if I accomplished that.
I recently met a woman in town who fixed my shoulder and also has a super positive smart-person-in-a-small-town vibe that we will call J-Healer. She is amazeballs and she reminds me that I made the right decision moving here. I’m also going to also try to do something I’ve never done before. I am going to a board meeting at a non-profit 4H camp in town to see if I might become a board member. Fun, good for the community, making friends, and also spreading the word that I’m not a day trading drug dealer. Hey guys I can totally save your non-profit with this new finance strategy in exchange for you telling all of the life long residents of Anytown that I’m not a day trading drug dealer. #TheMoreYouKnow
So, line of defense #1 is to just be a good person and spread the word that you are a productive member of society. Line of defense #2 is to let go and let your hillbilly reflexes kick back in. Again I’m not sure if the correct term is hillbilly, redneck, working class or just regular person. Either way after living in two cities for decades I’m going zen and bringing back the hillbilly street cred.
Using Hillbillly street cred from my real, original life, to inform people that I’m not a day trading drug dealer: (And if I was, which I’m not because I’m not that interesting, they wouldn’t care):
- Say “Mornin!'”.
- Just order “tea” instead of “Earl Grey” or any other such nonsense. Tea is fucking tea, end of story. You get what you get when you order.
- Eat fried hot dogs (Disclosure: I fry turkey hotdogs now which is only half hillbilly)
- Say “How’s it going?” to at least 50% of the people you see.
- Give a half-head-nod to people you know from town but don’t know well enough to approach.
- When you don’t have to ask why there is a fan next to a bucket of ice at the convenience store.
- Jager: Enough said, this is the tie that binds. (Jager post pending I swear. There’s a lot of material here but I’m trying to find a way to present it that won’t make me seem like a raging alcoholic. Good luck me!)
- I learned to drive a standard transmission in a corn field.
- My high school boyfriend was arrested because his father had 2 acres of weed growing in their back yard.
- My 15 year old daughter recently asked if I could show her how to open her orange soda with a lighter. NO. A good redneck has a bottle opener on their keychain. Jesus christ kid get with the program. Kids these days! (Side note: Remind me to post later about not getting a social work job once because I had a bottle opener on my keychain when I was 22).
- High school friends had nicknames like Beaver, Fish Bowl and Puddles. In case you’re intrigued: Buck Teeth, Bad Breath and what you’d turn into if he started punching you.
- You might be a redneck if you’ve ever been in a car on a frozen pond (Lauren, do NOT do this… )
- 9 year old smoking and drinking… normal
- Ever have massive credit card debt just to be alive?
- You can identify rashes without ever seeing them. Yup, it’s impetigo so you don’t need doctor just some dial soap and warm water.
- You’re constantly preparing for winter, and talking about preparing for winter. Never. Enough. Firewood. Is the generator working? Just a little more firewood. Venison. Meat freezer.
- We can’t tell you were Idaho is on a map (geography: Nope: Fail) but we know the spectrum for alcohol content without google. The chart goes from Coors Light to Grain Alcohol. It’s a special, and useful, skill.
- Even if you’ve never smoked pot you can offer suggestions for something to smoke out of as if you’re a pot-Macgyver. I’ve seen everything from a tampon case to an apple. #OhThe1980s I don’t smoke but I wish I did/could #LegalInMass
- If you need to start a literal fire you came to the right place. Not only can we start a fire anytime and anyplace but we can keep it going as long as you need it.
- Know what doesn’t scare us? Blood. If you want to eat, you’re going to have to kill it, skin it, cut it up and cook it.
- We can let rich people patronize us and pity us so we can take advantage of them in some way. I don’t do this anymore because I live a double life. Not day trader / drug dealer but redneck / non-redneck simultaneously.
- Food has three categories: Killed, Grown and Grocery Store. The less you rely on the last they more you’re winning. When you’re 9 years old and your favorite food is trout. #RealTalk
I’ll leave you with one of my fondest hillbilly cred stories. I was working out of a gift shop in a small town as the box office manager for the Big Apple Circus. I was literally in a closet at the gift shop it was pretty sweet. This was in the early 1990’s so I had a computer but it wasn’t linked to anything (ie. No internet). I took reservations via phone or people walking up to an external facing window at the “box office” aka the closet. I had a boom box from which I played the Eagles and The Guru almost all day because they were the only cds I had that weren’t metal or hard rock.
As the circus came close, the carnies arrived. They set up trailers and tents on the property next to the gift shop. It was really cool. The trailers had awnings and window boxes of flowers. These guys were very used to this. They had the complete set up it was awesome. They were also true carnies. Some were acrobats, clowns, elephant trainers and the set up crew.
Some of the younger guys approached me and asked me what people did in town for fun. Of course I laughed. There was no where to go and nothing to do. I told them the truth that we survived by spending time with friends and laughing. One of them noticed I was reading Dennis Leary’s book “No Cure For Cancer”. I LOVED this book. It was a great escape for comedy and reality. Irony: I moved to Dennis Leary’s home town and lived there from 2006-2017.
Brilliant Brilliant Brilliant READ THIS BOOK. Stands the test of time. My friend Lisa met him once and said he smelled amazing. #TrueDennis
He asked me if I would come to their pop up village and read them the book that night. I did. This was my first official public speaking appearance. We had strange soup that someone had cooked that I think was soba noodles and miso. We had some kind of wine that in hindsight I think might have been plum wine. I’m not sure who was cooking but there were people from at least 10 different countries of national origin present. I read page after page and chapter after chapter of Dennis Leary’s brilliance as a crowd of carnies.. men/women/children… laughed hysterically and stared at me in eager anticipation for more. Smoking cigarettes, drinking wine out of styrofoam cups, enjoying a united moment in time… before snapchat, iPhones or anyone even considering documenting the moment other than in our memories.
In an interview 20 years after that a hiring manager once asked me “Have you ever done any successful public speaking?”. I said yes, and told him about the time I conducted a training class at my first insurance job. What I really wanted to say was… there was this one time… with this bunch of carnies….