The Hot Dog Lady Who Tried to Ruin Dollywood Christmas

“It’s sad when some people make up their minds about me before they can get to know me.” This is a quote from my beloved husband, Tom; we were married in 2015, one week after the United States Supreme Court said we could. We’ve actually been a couple since 2010 though.

I pretty recently passed the half-century mark, and Tom is not too far behind. So, we got together in mid-life, and it’s been a really blessed life together. We have a pleasant home, good jobs, supportive friends and family, and we manage to find plenty of interesting adventures to share together, some big and others small.,

We are Nashvillians and huge fans of Dolly Parton. In fact, she lives a few miles away from us, and we have seen her in a relatively rare concert appearance at the Ryman Auditorium here in Music City. We had been to the Smokies on several occasions in the past but had never visited Dollywood, so on the first weekend in December we headed to the theme park’s Smoky Mountain Christmas celebration.

Despite bursts of rain here and there, the experience was absolutely magical from start to finish. There were festive shows tailored to the holiday season.  The decorations and lights were beautiful, especially after sunset. We did have one negative experience pretty early in our day.  Tom and I didn’t let it spoil our fun, but its one of those little things that neither one of us could quite shake.

We planned our time around the many shows the park has to offer; we had one full day from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. to get in all our fun. So, Tom and I hit the ground running finding one of the outdoor amphitheaters (Thankfully it wasn’t too cold.) where a Christmas bluegrass show was slated. We had a few minutes to spare, so we figured we would grab an early lunch, something that we could eat at the performance.

We saw a sign for a stand named “Dogs and Taters”. We got in line and noticed that the 70ish woman (I avoid labels related to age, as I have learned that they can be relative depending on where one lands on the chronological spectrum.) taking the orders was engaged in friendly banter with the four or five folks in line.

When it was our turn, we offered our usual pleasantries and inquired about the nature of the “taters” in question; were they home fries or homemade potato chips? The cashier seemed gruff and put upon in her response, and we noticed that she did not treat us with the same warmth that she had displayed to the others just mere seconds earlier.

The group in front of us consisted of male-female couples, probably retirees traveling together. The crowd overall seemed skewed either toward younger families with children or senior citizens.  Yes, we saw a few non-traditional families and/or same-sex couples in the park, so it’s not like we felt out-of-place in the grand scheme of things, but we were getting the impression that maybe this particular employee was not especially thrilled to be serving Tom and me.

We agreed that I would claim a bench in the amphitheater while Tom waited on our order. Tom ordered a hot dog and taters, while my carb-addict side made me opt for the corn dog and taters. Tom stood waiting, and then the cashier let him know that his food was ready. She handed him the hot dog and taters, and so he asked her about the rest of the order and provided our receipt. He was his usual unimposing and cheerful self; he just wanted the full order that we had paid for.

Ms. Congeniality managed to retrieve my corn dog and taters. She handed it to Tom with no thank you, no apology, no acknowledgement at all. She also didn’t seem concerned about whether he might need a tray, bag, etc to hold the ample-sized orders. It was as if any social interaction with Tom put her at the risk of bubonic plague.

I have done my time in the hospitality and retail industry. I know how difficult working with the public can be. We all have our bad-hair days, but it seemed telling that her problem was us in particular. Neither one of us is known for being a high-maintenance customer. We make it a point to be gracious and polite unless provoked for some strange reason.

As I have posted previously, my father was a school administrator during the arrival of school integration in rural Western Kentucky. He would recall the sad realities of the sports teams he traveled with being turned away at restaurants because there were African-American students in the group. By no stretch of the imagination am I deeming the little microaggression at Dollywood anywhere like the indignity of someone being flat-out denied service.

I am also well aware that Tom and I experience privilege in many facets of our lives. We enjoy positive interactions pretty much everywhere we choose to go. So, not a pity party at all. Yet, when Tom showed up with our food and reported on part two of the Dog and Taters saga, something still managed to sting a bit. We didn’t let it break our stride though. And the sit-down meal we had in the park that evening featured stellar service, perhaps because there was the matter of tipping or at least expected tipping.

On a purely transactional level, I figure that our money is as good as anyone else’s, so shouldn’t we be entitled to the basics of Customer Service 101? Yet, on a broader level, isn’t it sad that folks seem to have a way of assuming that different means less-than or something to be avoided?

I do stop and ask myself, are there situations when I make snap judgments based on external criteria? I must confess that I probably do; I think there is some degree of inevitable human nature involved. I make my assumptions, and they can be limiting in my thinking and attitude. Yet, I try not to let my expectations interfere with the task at hand in my daily life. That’s especially true of the workplace, but I think it also extends to other settings too.

I am resolved to try to light candles when I can rather than curse the darkness. In filling out an online guest survey, I reported the incident but stated that we still had an overwhelmingly positive experience overall.

In hindsight, I wish that I were the kind of person who would have gone back to the scene of the crime so-to-speak and found the perfect way to model congeniality and “kill her with kindness” through some sort of overt expression that would prove to Grouchy Lady that my beloved and I deserved her respect but that we were also respectful of her as well. Yet, I know that sometimes when I make moves like that, it comes across as being passive-aggressive, or worse, my long fuse manages to become lit in a not-so-healthy way.

At any rate, my hope is that I can be my best self and enjoy life so much that it’s contagious. There will be bumps along the way; I won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, and I will probably not always handle it with perfect ease. I wish that I could magically change the hearts and minds of those who think that Tom and I are the “other,” but maybe the answer is to keep an eye out for the hot dog ladies that do care and not miss out on the positive that’s out there.