Ronda Rich

Syndicated Columnist

Excitedly, many years ago, I was a young girl who was a novice author, publishing with Penguin-Putnam, one of the world’s largest publishers.

After a four-day auction, the book’s illustrations about the grace and hospitality of the South, it sold and I was stupidly stunned as I wound up on shows like The View (a much calmer version than today) and featured in People magazine, as well as other major newspapers and television shows.

There I was, tossed out in the media world knowing little except, thank the good Lord, I had a journalism degree and a good bit of experience as the interviewer of questions. There are many stories from that tour, but here is one of my favorites: I was appearing on an early morning radio show in Charlotte, N.C. I hated the five o’clock calls from the front desk then while sleepy, putting on my clothes and make-up. But it was worth it. In those days, there was no satellite radio, so people listened faithfully to their local radio stations.

On this particular station, the male host and I chatted about how the South differed from other parts of the country and why I would write a book about it. The book was entering its second week of publication when the host said, “Someone from your publisher called us late yesterday and asked to give you this message: ‘What Southern Women Know (That Every Woman Should)’ is heading into a large quantity of a second printing and is beginning to make best seller lists across the country.” He smiled widely.

I was not nonchalant. I was not casual. A light squeal of delight escaped my lips, I clapped my hands then my eyes watered with tears of surprise and gratitude.’

“How does that feel?” he asked. “Unbelievable!” “Congratulations. Now, let’s take a call from a young woman who wants your advice.”

She was lovely but completely perplexed by the South she found when she moved from Boston. “I’m a sales person. The more calls I make, the more money I make. But down here in the South, people want to sat down and talk, talk, talk. They always place a nice order but I’d earned more if they didn’t keep me there, talking. What do I do?”

I laughed. In college, I had jobs selling radio advertising and HBO, which no one had ever heard, of. The more we talked, the more I was assured of a sale.

“I’m sorry, but that’s just the way of the South. We saunter, meander, get to know who we’re dealing with and make a friend. There’s no way to change that and still be successful.”

She sighed heavily. “Ok. On the good side, I’ve been named top sales person in my region ever since I moved here. I just thought there might be a way to do better.”

“There is,” I replied. “Talk more and get bigger orders.”

A year later, I received a note from her. “You were right! I was named Salesperson of the Year for the entire company. They now want to move me out of the South, but I’m not going” My New England-turned-Hollywood husband doesn’t understand this. Countless times I’ve heard, “We’ve got to go.” “The dogs need to go out.” Then, he pulls the big excuse out, “These nice folks need to go home. We’re keeping them too long.”

“No, we’re not,” I often reply. “They want to talk to us.” That’s when I get the Tinker look. I pray you are never subjected to the steely eye, narrowed eyes and raised brow. Sometimes it scares me. Sometimes I ignore it.

After the latest episode, I said, “Tink, you don’t understand Southerners. We want to know about their gardens, their last visit to the doctor and the ‘no good’ their daughter is dating.”

I must be right because that book in which I recommend this kind of socializing is now in it 45th printing.

Ronda Rich is the best-sell author of the Stella Bankwell series. Visit www.rondarich to sign up for free news letter.