The manager at the Salvation Army store I'm doing service at is a hilarious stereotype of the classical Southern gentleman archetype. Accent. Clothing. Beard and hair. If you picture Colonel Sanders, you are seriously not very far off at all. The other day he bought the store... chicken, mashed potatoes, and biscuits. I kid you not.

He's a pretty nice guy, though, all things considered. It just amuses the hell out of me.