The Good Life in a Small(er) Town

It's all about the feels.

One of my family's most frequent observations about our new community is that everyone seems so nice. We experience it almost every time we leave the house and engage with our neighbors.

I’ve wanted to write about it but have struggled to express it adequately. Previous attempts always made it sound phony, as if people here are more polite, but they are not necessarily nicer in any obvious way.

I haven’t been able to explain it until now. Something happened the other day that clearly illustrated the difference between how some people acted in my urban environment on the edge of Washington, D.C., and my relatively small town (about 32,000 people) in Tennessee.

Here’s the story.

The Drive-thru

We are not generally “fast food” people. We don’t often patronize big-chain burgers, tacos, or chicken joints. However, in the two months since we arrived, several occasions warranted the speed and efficiency they offer, so we have been through fast-food drive-thrus more than usual.

Back in September, when we were unpacking daily, convenience was definitely the reason for weekly (even twice-weekly) trips to a burger or taco drive-thru. But, in October, we turned to fast food at times when it was only mildly more convenient than cooking — something we never really did in Maryland.

The fast food quality is no better here than there (although we have been lured several times to Cook Out’s nearly 40 flavors of fantastic milkshakes). So, what is different?

Simply put, it’s the experience.

Every time we’ve been to a fast-food restaurant here, the drive-thru attendant has been friendly and polite beyond all our prior experience. They genuinely seem to be glad we’re there, and they say so with sincerity.

I don’t want to suggest that fast-food attendants in the city were rude or unhelpful; they were just… invisible. They wanted as little interaction with the customer as possible.

The folks behind the window here smile, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely care about your response. They say please and thank you.

Of course, that’s just being polite, so I haven’t written about it before now.

A taco salad changed that.

Frito Pie Salad

Okay, it wasn’t really a taco salad. It was a Frito pie salad.

You're missing out if you don’t know what a Frito pie is. Chili, cheese, and corn chips. Delicious. Believe it or not, there’s a local fast-food chain with a menu that is almost entirely variations on the Frito pie.

One very busy evening, we realized it was getting late, and we hadn’t planned dinner, so we decided to pick up Frito pies. I ordered online and selected the “salad” variation for myself — a Frito pie on a bed of lettuce rather than in a simple cup.

When I arrived at the restaurant to pick up our dinner, I decided to park the car and go inside. When I got to the door, however, it was locked. A sign said the dining room was closed for training.

The door was right next to the drive-thru window, and there was no car at the window, so I walked up and told the attendant why I was there. He looked surprised and said, “It’s not quite ready. I don’t want you to have to stand out there, though!”

He motioned toward the door, which he unlocked and gestured me in. I stood at the counter, alone in the dining room, and heard the cook in the back assure me he’d have my food ready in a moment.

True to his word, he brought my order to the counter within a couple of minutes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope this is okay.”

“Uh-oh,” I thought, “someone isn’t going to be happy.” I asked, “What’s the problem?”

He replied, “When we get online orders, we never know when someone will actually arrive. So I put your chili in a cup. I didn’t want your lettuce to get wilted.” He didn’t want my lettuce to get wilted!

That’s not just polite. That’s thoughtful. That’s considerate.

And that’s the difference. People here are just more thoughtful and considerate. And it feels very good to be around people who care that much about something as inconsequential as wilted lettuce.