My recent trip to a New Hampshire Dunkin Donuts taught me that having an accent from your homeland does not mean you are a new immigrant, unintelligent…or friendly.
When I walked into line, I heard a gorgeous blonde in front of me say that she’d moved from Sweden two years ago.
I conversation-bombed (my new term similar to a photo bomb) and asked if she knew English before she “came over” or if she learned “when she got here”?
Her curt response as she looked into my evidently insulting eyes was, “In Sweden we learn English at quite a young age.”
Meaning for my response to be an apology, and an instant friendship of alliance, I explained that I had a friend in Sandviken.
“That is quite a bit North of where I live.” and she turned to select her figure-altering donuts.
A little offended myself, I was suddenly on the defensive and explained that my friend met her husband in college and learned Swedish once she moved and immersed herself in the culture.
She now looked over her shoulder as she (picked up, grabbed), snatched her box o’ lard and stated firmly, “Right now I need to head North by myself.”
Brrrr….quite the ice queen. No wonder she was headed North.