How the name of my blog came to be...

Back in June, I took a poxy little part-time job at a big grocery store chain here in the UK as a checkout girl. Now mind you, this something I'd have never done in the US (why? I don't know!) but here I did for several reasons the most important being 1) my husband had been unemployed for 7 months (he is now thankfully gainfully employed!), 2) it was within walking distance of my house and 3) it was part-time which is what I wanted to reintroduce myself to this working thing after having spent the past four years as a full-time stay-at-home mom/foster mom while in the states and 4) for all of these reasons it was just too convenient to pass up. But I digress.

So I started working as a checkout girl back in June. The two big differences between American grocery stores and UK grocery stores is 1) the checkout staff get to sit down for their job (a big plus for the injuries I sustained in a horrific car crash 14 years ago ... I'd never be able to do this job in the US with all that standing up!) and 2) the CUSTOMERS bag their OWN groceries while us checkout people politely sit there and smile at them. How novel! But again I digress. Anyway, because I am working directly with the general public, this is how a typical exchange goes with my customers:

Customer upon hearing me speak, with an added look of confusion: "You're not from around here!" OR "Where are you from?" OR "That's not a local accent!" OR "What a lovely accent you have! Where are you from?"

Me: "Yeah, I'm from the Chicago area..."

Customer, every time without fail: "Why are you here?!?!?!" (there is no good answer that satisfies these people ... I've tried them all!)

But every time a customer starts this conversation with something about my so-called accent, I am confused because I don't think of myself as having the accent ... they do! It throws me off guard every time! Once I even replied, "I'm not the one with the accent, you are!" to which I got the most befuddled expression from the customer. And then I'm reminded, oh yeah, I'm the foreigner, not them! To me I sound like, well, me. The same old Amy with the flat way of speaking. I even once had a customer ask me, "Do you think you'll ever lose your accent and have a British accent?" and I immediately without thinking replied, "God, I hope not!" I don't think he was well pleased with that reply, but ho hum.

Along these lines I had a funny experience on the public bus not so long ago. Nottingham has a huge and renowned university and because of that there are a lot students on the buses, and a lot of foreign students from the likes of Asian and Eastern European countries. I was on the bus with my children going into the city centre for an outing , the bus was standing room only and I heard a lot of Polish and Slavic-esque languages. The first thought that came to my head was, "Bloody hell! This bus is full of foreigners!" I think I may have even muttered those words under my breath so that only my kids could hear me. And then I caught the irony of my inner stream of thoughts ... "Hello! I'm a foreigner as well!" This is a shocking revelation every time it comes to light. I. AM. A. FOREIGNER. This is how the outside world perceives me when they hear me speak. Some are enchanted (I once had a customer at work who giggled like a little school girl every time I opened my mouth to speak ... a bit amusing, but also a bit annoying), some are curious, and some are downright hostile but if I'm honest, the latter is the exception. It's funny because I don't feel like a foreigner. It is only when I interact with the public at large that I am reminded of my status in this country. They are the locals. I am the foreigner. Funny, I don't feel like a foreigner. I just feel like me.

Since entering the UK as an alien resident, I suddenly have a compassion and understanding for my Mexican counterparts (whether legal or illegal) in the US. I feel for them. I too know how they're just trying to be who they've always been and not wanting to conform to their host country's accents and traditions if it means giving up your own. While we may be seen as being stubborn or rude or not respectful, we're just wanting to stay true to ourselves. Of course there are times when I do have to compromise and conform because I don't want to look like a horse's ass talking about how nice those "pants" are in the store window when pants here means underwear so I will give in and refer to them as "trousers." There are other times when it is just good fun conforming to the way they speak here (especially with swearing, my favorite past time ... bollocks, bugger, bloody hell, blimey ...) So with that I will take what I like and reject that which I don't and conform only where need be to avoid looking like a complete idiot. After all, I am just but an immigrant.

Cheers!
Amy x