MCMINNVILLE, Ore. — An Oregon woman who calls herself “Auntie Beth” emerged from her work/home loop Saturday to visit a Willamette winery, according to a source close to the woman.
“She’s lived here for more than a month already,” said the source. “We were about to do a welfare check.”
Lured by an advertisement touting “live music,” Auntie Beth arranged to meet up with a new Facebook friend. This friend, Wendy, and Auntie Beth were surprised and dismayed to discover that the music genre was jazz.
Still, they stayed until the event was over, then continued the evening at Lumpy’s Tavern a short distance away.
This dive bar featured many local craft brews on tap, a variety of interesting people, three pool tables and karaoke.
Auntie Beth arrived home safe at 1:30 a.m. — four hours past her normal bedtime. She and Wendy are expected to repeat the evening in two weeks.
My first week went well. Everyone has been very kind, very welcoming.
I’ve also been a bit overwhelmed at the scope of the work to do. I stayed late every night this week trying to get a handle on my role. But my instincts have proven to be sound, and I’ll be fine.
The view from my desk
I have discovered that Oregonians are a particular kind of nice.
They are lovely people, but don’t seem to go out of their way to help. High school friend Aileen, who lives in Salem, warned me about that.
You have to ask explicitly for what you want.
For example, I locked myself out of my house for the first time in my life the week before I started work. The doorknob of the door leading into the garage has a thumb lock you really have to work at to pop out. I thought I had done that.
When I returned from taking out the trash, I realized I had not.
I had only the clothes on my back. No phone. And I was filthy because I had been painting and unboxing and trying to get the place in order.
I didn’t even know where campus security was to get help. (I live on campus.) I walked to my soon-to-be office building to call campus security. One of my direct reports was working late. I materialized in her doorway. She and I were both horrified at the state of me. She barely recognized me.
Beth?!
Yeah.
She called security and handed me the phone.
Security officer: I don’t know that we even have keys to that place.
Me: If you don’t, do you know a locksmith?
Him: I’m not from here. I don’t know a locksmith.
Me: Could I use your phone to call one?
Him: Sure. I’ll meet you at your house in 10 minutes.
We arrive at the same time. He tried the keys. No luck. I use his phone to call a locksmith. The dude has to come from Salem, which is 45+minutes. He asks me what kind of lock it is. I tell him it’s heavy duty because it’s campus housing. He says he might have to drill it out. We hang up.
Me: I don’t think the facilities group is going to like that.
Security officer: No. I don’t think the campus locksmith will either.
Me (incredulous): THERE’S A CAMPUS LOCKSMITH?!
Him: Oh yes.
Me: Well, can we call him?
Him: Yes, I’ll call the facilities manager on call.
Me: THERE’S A FACILITIES MANAGER ON CALL?!?
Darrell the Campus Locksmith got there in five minutes and let me in.
See what I mean? Nice but not forthcoming.
It’s different from Southern nice, where people WILL go out of their way but talk smack about you when the screen door shuts.
And different from Midwest nice, where people will go out of their way with no expectation of return favors and no gossip.
So now I know. I can work with that.
I’ll keep you posted on the adventures I expect to have.
Observe and report 