I call and call, and leave several messages. I  finally get a return call from someone in Accounts Payable. Sheesh! They sure took their time. If I write a check for $6,208, and someone calls me and says, I don't think this was meant for me", I'm sweatin' bullets til I talk to them, know what I mean?

So the gentleman and I talk, and he insists it's correct, and I tell him, "No it's not. Check ya'll's records."

Uh oh. I've used the dreaded ya'll word. Apparently I'm immediately tagged as a dumb hick, too dumb for him to waste his time with. So he verrrrry carefully and verrrrry slowly gives me the address to return the check to. After all, I said ya'll, so I must be really stupid, right?

He instructs me to return the check to P O Box (that's B-O-X), in Portland (spells it-good heavens, does he not know that if I can spell Chattahoochee , Nickajack, or Tallulah I can spell Portland with half my brain tied behind my back?),  in OR (that's capital O, capital R). So help me god, yes he does tell me that.

It was all I could do to bite my tongue, because prancing on the tip of it was, "Listen up, sugar. Never mind. Next time I'll just cash the check. Oh, and ya'll be sure to keep me on ya'lls mailing list, y'hear?"

You know, I'd follow this up with a comment on how wonderful regional differences used to be, and how we should appreciate it, etc etc etc, except that I remember just this weekend telling my daughter, after watching a news report from NYC, that a Bronx accent is the best form of birth control.

How 'bout them apples, ya'll?