As I often do, I struck a conversation with the checker in a slow checkout line in a store yesterday. The checker was a woman beyond normal retirement age. I detected an upper East Coast accent. She told me she was only working part time and would be moving back home soon.
“Where is home?” I asked.
She told me where she came from—exactly where her accent placed her.
“And how do you like Montana?” I asked.
“I don’t like it here at all. People are not friendly. I have had other people tell me the same thing.” She went on to explain that she lived in a neighborhood “surrounded by Mormons…not that that should matter.”
I was a bit stunned, but went on to ask her what brought her to Montana.
“My daughter is here.”
“And how is she doing here? Does she like it?”
“She hates it here. But she is stuck because her husband has a really good job.”
I told her I was sorry that she had not connected with Montana or the people here. I explained that, having been born and raised here, I could not understand her experience. I thanked her and exited the store.