Real Americans

Finding that I was running late for work, I stopped for my morning coffee at a shop to which I go only once in a great while. My usual stop was just a bit too far out of the way on today's rushed commute.

Immediately heading to the coffee bar in the rear of the store, I began to pour myself a black coffee. (With a little sugar, of course.) I heard a voice call "Hi, how are you?" I turned to see exactly whom was being addressed. To my surprise, I turned to see the blonde middle aged woman that, until fairly recently, worked at my usual coffee stop. She had left during the recent change of ownership.

It had been some time since I had seen her and I greeted her warmly in return. I asked her how things were going. She seemed genuinely happy in her new workplace and a brief conversation ensued. She indicated several ways in which her new employment was superior to the old.

Upon parting, she indicated yet another final reason, "It's nice to work with Americans."

I did not indicate my considerable offense. One would assume that those of her former colleagues that speak with an accent are not real Americans.