By Bob Bouyea
Executive Editor

Well, I’m here, not that many of you knew I was coming.

Hopefully my arrival isn’t like an unannounced drop-in by the in-laws.

 I’ve been in Charleston for a little over three weeks now and continue to be amazed by the civility. I’ve heard about Southern hospitality, read about it, but never experienced it. To understand my amazement, I must tell you for the past 61⁄2 years, the wife, our brood and I lived in the West Palm Beach, Fla., region. And while that is south of here, it doesn’t convey the same Southernly attitude.

The old saying in Florida is, “The farther south you drive, the farther north you go.” So, the only attitude displayed was, “Get in my way and I’ll run you over and it will be your fault,” even if it isn’t.

What civility is to Charleston, surly is to West Palm.

Within hours of arriving in town, we were taken aback by the inviting and cordial nature of residents and the emphasis on customer service by local businesses. After visiting a couple of establishments, I determined that either every business has invested heavily in customer service training or this is just the way people are here. If people came up and started talking to you in West Palm, you’d be skeptical, wondering what they were after while keeping your hand firmly over your wallet.

But here, regardless of where we went or what service provider stopped by our house, we learned about their life while they were going about their business.

My favorite story (so far) was from Jeannette, who works in a Mount Pleasant design store. As my oldest daughter and I were looking for the wife and youngest daughter, Jeannette approached us and asked if we needed any help. We explained we were looking for the other half of our party. Then Jeannette asked about my daughters’ names.

When I told her my youngest daughter’s name, she said that was one of her favorite names. However, it was tradition for each generation to name a female baby Jeannette. And as part of the tradition a spoon ring is passed down when the girl becomes a teenager.

When she received the ring, being the fourth Jeannette in her family, she promptly lost it at the church she attended. Roughly 15 years later she received a package from her mother. In it was the ring that someone had found on the property. Her mother put a note in with the ring asking if she was now mature enough to take care of it.

After leaving the store, my oldest daughter relayed the story to her mom and sister. My wife looked at me somewhat bewildered and I told her it was true. We both grinned and shook our heads.

Now enough time has passed and I know that businesses haven’t invested half of their revenue in customer service training. That’s just the way people are here.

Suggestion

Would you mind if I offer a suggestion to our friends in local government? Street signs. Yes, street signs. My request is: Could we use them?

I don’t mean those little jobs that seem to be randomly positioned on one of the four intersection corners that you don’t see until it’s too late to turn. I’m talking about nice, big ones with large lettering on them so people, even those from here in town, can figure out where they are and where they want to go.

You have to understand where this request partially comes from. You see, I’m married to a woman who needs large landmarks or other objects to determine which direction she is traveling. When I say large, I mean something like a mountain. (The sun won’t work because it’s never in the same place, so don’t suggest that.)

And I need exact directions. I don’t do “turn right at the fourth blue billboard and go until you come to the second white picket fence from which you will travel about 137 yards before turning left after passing the house with the brick siding.”

So what would help us both are street signs. They will alleviate my need for making U-turns and, since there isn’t a mountain around here, my wife will know what street she is on even if she’s not certain of the direction she is traveling.

Final Word

Now that you know I’m here, I look forward to hearing from you and meeting with you as I learn more about our community. Don’t hesitate to stop by, call or e-mail me. Or if you see a guy driving aimlessly around town with a look of amazement on his face, that’s probably me.

Bob Bouyea is executive editor of the Business Journal. E-mail him at bbouyea@crbj.com.

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