Niceties and nuisances revisited

A little over three years ago I wrote about how the intricacies and length of southern conversations drove me absolutely up the wall. I believe I compared southern social etiquette to that of a Jane Austen novel, and argued that the lack of efficiency in conversations were not conducive to an effective working environment, to say the least.

Well, what can I say? Probably something to the effect of "if you can't change your mind are you sure you still have one", or "successful species adapt to their environment", or perhaps I should just claim that Southerners really are the Borg, as this was the conversation I just had with my vet's office:

Secretary: Good morning, Westmoreland Animal Hospital, how may I help you?
Me: Hi, this is DC, how are you today?
Secretary: Good, how may I help you?
Note: At this point, I'm thinking, oh, she's not a southerner. A southerner would have asked me how I was doing. How rude! Wait. Is that rude? Maybe she's wondering why the heck someone would call right when they open at 8am and then ask how she's doing.
Me: Yes, I have two dogs, and they're out of heartworm medication, but before I order some new ones, my husband said that they need an annual check up, and so I was calling to see when they were due
Secretary and I then proceed to discuss the medicine, and the fact that both dogs are due for a check up in November.
Secretary: But I see they're on the same medication now, Shelby is 50 pounds and Zoe is...
Me: Yeah, Zoe is 70 pounds. She's a big girl. We're putting her on a diet, but sheesh, it's not easy
Note: While I was having this conversation, this remark didn't strike me as odd at all. After all, it's just making conversation, and that's what we all do. Please note that scary use of the word "we" here. In hindsight, I'm thinking, uhm, yeah, who cares about your pooch's diet?
Secretary: Uh-uh. Well, I'll set you up to pick up two boxes of Sentinel then.
Me: OK. But I'll be by to pick them up tomorrow. I don't get off from work until late today, and I won't be able to make it by your office on time
Note: At this point, I do hear a tiny rumbling in the back of my brain about all the detail in this remark, but I ignore it
Secretary: OK. That's fine
Me: And I'll have my husband call to make an appointment for November. He's the one who will take them, so it's easier if he calls you instead of me
Note: Now I'm definitely aware of the fact that I'm oversharing.
Secretary: OK, that' s great.

Thankfully, I manage to end the conversation without any further social diarrhea on my part.

People! People! What is wrong with me?! Really, what has come over me? I am calling my vet at eight in the morning to ask about heart worm meds, and I am this close to sharing my freaking life story with this woman I don't even know. I mean, a very easy question, "Can I order some heart worm meds and ask when the dogs are due for their check up" turned into a ten minute conversation, and on top of that, I think nothing of it! Whatever happened to efficiency? To getting the job done and moving on?

And you know what's worse? When I re-read that blog from three years ago, I cringe just a little at the harshness of my judgments. What is up with that? Am I becoming soft and southern at the same time? What's next? Putting a "The south will rise again" bumpersticker on my car? Marching against allowing alcohol sales on a Sunday? Saying "By Golly" and meaning it?

I think I need to sit in a quiet corner and reconsider my life. Please excuse me