Sexy Accents

“So, where’s your accent from?” Marika asked casually. She loved chatting to her customers while cutting their hair; a trait that comes hand-in-hand with the best hairdressing.

The man was of indefinite age, and his accent reminded her of her late grandfather who was from former Yugoslavia.

“Did you say sexy?” the man’s eyes, which were ogling her unceremoniously in the mirror, locked with hers in a heady fraction of a second.

“No. I said accent.” Marika had an expertise handling those instant womanizers. Years of work did it, understanding the male migrant mentality did it, and perhaps being pretty and self-confident helped, too.

“Is my accent sexy?” the man smiled seeing her look away for a moment, and seizing the opportunity. “All women say that.”

Jesus, Marika thought to herself, another one with that pick-up line. But, no worries, baby, I’ll fix ya.

“Actually,” she said doing her best to smile sweetly, “your accent reminds me of Borat. Whereabouts do you come from?”

“You mean, I remind you of that uncivilized clown from Kazakhstan who bragged of having sex with his own sister?”

“Sorry, Sir, I was just talking about your accent. I think you speak English good.”

“It should be ‘well,’ not ‘good.’ Didn’t they teach you the difference between adverbs and adjectives at school? Or did they only teach you enough English to chat your customers up?

“You mean to chat with my customers?” Marika blinked disoriented by what she thought might have been the man’s thick accent. Did he really say “chat up?” Was he trying to offend her? Make her look like a slut?

But the man smiled.

“So we are even now, aren’t we?” he said.

Seeing her look blank, he added:

“Well, perhaps you should realize that not everybody is happy when asked about their accent. Unless they come from the other English speaking countries, it makes them feel as if they don’t belong.”

“Why, my grandpa would never mind. And he was Serbian.”

“Because he probably spoke broken English, and was happy to be acknowledged at all. But I am a university professor.”

“Then you should be proud of your background. Not ashamed.”

“And so I am, but not of being compared to Borat.”

“He is funny, intelligent, one of a kind.”

“Just the sort of man you’d like to date?”

“Never.”

“Here goes. You’ve hurt my male pride. Got it?”

“Would you like some gel in your hair, Sir?”

“Well, here’s another problem. You’ve got problems with conversational turn-taking. Your transition from “male pride” to “gel” was far too abrupt.”

“Sorry Sir, but I’m a simple hairdresser, not a university professor. So would you like any extras?”

“Is coffee with you on the menu?”
“Sorry?”
“You see I’m conducting a research on hairdressing and social skills. You did pretty well. I’m impressed by your verbal and non-verbal communication skills.”

“Am I that good?”
“Perfect is the word.”

“You’ve intrigued me. I might agree to that coffee, after all. And I love your accent. Sounds so exotic.”

“I’ve put it on for the sake of the research. It’s the German professorial accent, and it usually disappears just before the first date.”

“Oh!”

“But I promise to put on the French accent especially for you. It’s more romantic.”

“I’m swooning. And what should I expect next?”

“Well, Slavs are the most virile love makers. So if you’re lucky to hold onto me for long enough, you can hear me sound Russian.”

“That’ll be $20 including the gel. Thank you, Sir.”

Sexy Accents

Greg

Joined January 2008

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