Those Midwesterners

When I moved here, several people (who had moved here before me) said they thought people here were very nice and I would be pleasantly surprised by them. It is true that they smile at you on the street (they do this in California too, but I couldn't get anyone to smile at me in Rochester)-- well, maybe half do. And when it was obvious our lawn mover was broken, a neighbor lent us one. That was nice.

But mostly I've found people had very poor manners, meaning they tend to be rude, which I will always extrapolate into not-nice. It's been hard to explain, because I didn't have any good examples. Until today.

Kristen is in the basement of the antique store. It is 4:45 P.M.

Old Lady: "Is anyone down here?"
K: "Yes."
Old Lady: "Oooooh."
K: "Are you closed?"
Old Lady: "Not yet."

Old Lady turns out the lights. Kristen makes a noise of surprise, then stumbles through the dark basement full of rusty crap towards the stairs.

Old Lady: "Were you done?"
K: "No, but I guess I am now."
Old Lady: "Was there something there you wanted?"
K: "Don't know, I can't see now." Reaches stairs.
Old Lady: "I could turn the lights back on."
K: "Don't bother."