Since working in The South, I have been accused several times at various jobs of being rude. When I worked in The North, (in Pittsburgh and New York) I was never accused of this.
There are three possible explanations:
1. I was born with a latent CrankyPants Gene, which did not develop till I stepped over the Mason-Dixon Line;
2. The intense Southern humidity triggered my genetic Irish predilection to drink beer, eat shamrocks and be a bitch-on-wheels;
3. My concept of Business Professionalism and my Southern employers' concept of BP are incompatible.
(There is no right or wrong answer to this quiz. Your opinion matters. Personal mileage may vary.)
Due to my above-mentioned predilection to beer and my cats' love of food, I have had to adjust to SBP (Southern Business Professionalism) in order to maintain my present employment status, but it ain't been easy. I believe in calling a spade a spade (but in the metal yard tool kind of way, not the racist slur kind of way), so if I have to put your call on hold for a millisecond while I transfer you I will say, "Hold on", not "Well fiddle-dee-dee, I hate it, but I'm going to have to put y'all on hold for a hot minute and I dooooo so apologize, but I promise it won't be but a sec, bless your heart!", cause I got shit to do. (Those WWF games don't play themselves!)
I've become pretty adept at the whole Sir and Ma'am thingy, although my inner child cringes every time I say it because when I was a kid, if I said "Yes, ma'am" to my mother she yelled at me (her favorite phrase being, "You little snot!"). She took that to mean I was being a SmartAss, which I probably was, but I grew up thinking ma'am was a derogatory term.
I also have a sneaking suspicion (another Irish trait) that plainly speaking your mind might be considered fine and dandy for males but totally unladylike, bordering on sluttish, for females. But, surely, in this 21st Century world of total equality, that can't be the case. (Sarcasm is one of my favorite Irish traits.)
Well, as the old saying goes, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."...no, wait, wrong saying..."When in Rome..."--that's the one I was looking for. I will never consider myself A Southerner, but I've managed to develop a respectable camouflage that's kept me afloat the last 35 years.
Although I still don't care for Southern comedies and if you tell me to have a Blessed Day, I'm likely to kick you in your genitalia. Old habits die hard.