Minnesotans love to throw around the state's unofficial slogan "Minnesota Nice."
When I first moved to Minnesota, I thought, "It's true, they really are nice here!" And, on the surface, they are nice. They are polite, smile and nod in passing or talk to you about the weather or your car when at the gas pump. They'll hold doors open and make small talk when waiting in line. When you have something in common, they'll chat with you about that - for instance, when my daughter was in preschool, the other moms and I would talk about our kids, the school and even schedule play dates for our kids. Coworkers will invite you to lunch or happy hour and talk about work, partners, kids and so on. There's no shortage of pleasant, daily interactions available with Minnesotans. But I found it impossible to develop more meaningful relationships with these Minnesotans - the other moms, my coworkers. Even people with whom I had so much in common. I'd try inviting them lunch outside of work - say, on the weekend. Or to events like craft shows, or to see a movie. Their responses were alike - they begged off, other commitments, something with family, and so on. But thanked me for thinking of them. This happened so frequently - my inability to connect with all these nice people - that I began to suspect there was something about me that was not likable. What was I doing wrong? Was it my breath? But then I talked to a few other transplants to Minnesota and found out they had similar experiences. Even after years living in Minnesota, they had a huge circle of acquaintances but no close friends yet. So, it wasn't just me! I've finally made some friends here and it only took twenty years. Minnesotans are nice - they are pleasant, agreeable. But when it comes to more meaningful relationships and friendships, they truly are a standoffish bunch.
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I first met my friend, Jade, when I began working as a copywriter at a local company that managed promotions, coupons and rebate programs. Jade was an account executive, tasked with seeking out new customers. I accompanied her and my new manager, the director of marketing, to a site visit at a client's manufacturing plant. I could tell Jade was different than any coworker I've had before, not just because she had bright magenta hair and multiple piercings in her ear. She had a positive energy and was effervescent. She did not seem to possess any shyness, a trait I'm plagued with. When it soon became evident my new place of employment was a toxic environment where the owner/manager would go from being your best friend to a cruel, micromanaging dictator from one day to the next. There was often a dark pall permeating the offices. Whispers of discontent, gossip, bitterness were prevalent. But there was Jade, who not only made lemonade from lemons, but spiked it with rum. She lit up a room with her presence and her laughter eased the tension and made each day fun. There were so many times that I felt trapped in that job. I grew to hate it more every day and was always scared to make a mistake and draw the attention and wrath of the manager. Jade seemed to shake things off, and she spread cheer and showered those of us she liked with food, treats and funny gifts. She once bought me a superhero cape that read "Sooper Copiwrighter" as a joke. Jade was always a glowing warm light in the darkness of a terrible workplace. Then Jade left and I was stuck without a friend, without her laughter, without hope. For six months. I applied for dozens of jobs and interviewed for a handful. There seemed no way out. Always, Jade promised, "I will get you out of there." But my doubt grew. She was busy learning the ropes of her new job and raising her family. She'd forget me. But she didn't forget. A position opened at Jade's new company. She forwarded the job description, recommended me to the hiring manager and gave me tips for what to say during the interview. I was hired. Jade saved me from one of the worst companies I've ever worked. Though Jade moved on to another company, I still have the cape and my friendship with her. |
About Sally FarleyI'm a typical, hardworking Midwesterner, enduring (and sometimes participating in) the passive-aggressive complexities of life in Minnesota. ArchivesLinksAsk a Manager
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