To provide a modicum of balance to this thread:
Okay. We get it already. You don’t know what snow is. Pardon us if our eyes glaze over while you regale us with more stories about how your town shuts down and waits it out if you wake up with a trace of frost on the grass
But you’re not in the Carolinas/Alabama anymore. You’re here. And I just want to give you a primer on how we do things in case you want to shake yourself out of your dream world and join the rest of us.
When you hear the first rumor of snow at work, you are to maintain calm and wait until there is actually an announcement that a blizzard has arrived. If the weather system is coming off the lakes, we will get more snow, and you will be notified if we are to leave early.
Ignore what you’ve heard and seen from your fellow transplant who is surfing the Internet. If a real blizzard arrives, a local person will call you over to a window to let you enjoy the beauty of the falling snow (if you can still see out that window).
If we are dismissed (or at the regular quitting time), dress warmly, but sensibly. Putting on a parka over six layers of sweaters simply means that you will be harder to pull upright after you have fallen on the slick spot (since you are now top-heavy).
Start your car, then get back out and clean the snow off the windows while the engine warms up. This exercise will keep you warm while the inside of your car reaches a temperature to keep your breath from frosting the inside of the windows. (It will also ensure that you can actually see the road and traffic that you are dodging through.) You may exchange greetings and horror stories with your fellow parking lot snow cleaners at this time, but do not whimper. They’re cold too and they do not want to be made more cold by standing idly about in the storm while you whine.
Go straight home. There is nothing worse than trying to negotiate roads crowded with people running multiple errands and blocking the snowplows.
I will skip the extraneous lesson on grocery store etiquette, since, as a neophyte, you should have paid attention to the news filler that all the local stations ran three times at the first dusting of snow in October about keeping your larder filled and having extra blankets in the car. (Batteries should not be a problem, since, these days, you have to start stocking up on them in August to get ready for Christmas.)
When the kids start out the door, remind them that they have to take their hats with them (so that they will put them back on just before returning inside while having kept them stuffed in their pockets for most of the period they were outdoors). Tell them that they cannot buy season lift tickets until they clean up their rooms. (This will prevent your ever having to invest in lift tickets.)
When your kids’ school closings are announced, draw up a list of chores that must be done before you return home (since businesses do not close for weather) and then go clear off you car and get your butt in to the office, because the rest of us really do not want to have to listen to you whine about how bad the roads are when you did not even bother venturing out on them.
When you do finally show up late at the office, do not spend an hour walking around fully dressed for the arctic, complaining about how difficult the drive was. We all drove the same roads–back before the plows and salt came through, rather than waiting for them to be cleared the way that you did. Do not, then, spend an additional several hours avoiding work by asking how any of us could live in such a horrible climate and whining about how much better your original home was where they acted as though a 1/2 inch snowfall was more to be dreaded than Armageddon (while tolerating fire ants, black widow spiders, and life-threatening temperatures from May through October).
If you insist on whining against our climate, be prepared for the inevitable. Someone will bring up the Winter of '78 and you will then be forced to listen to tales that will really chill you to the bone. Watch the eager expressions on everyone’s faces. They will be simply waiting for their chance to contribute to the ever-lengthening epic. People will will look around at each other and snicker. Even the boss will stop worrying about lost productivity. No one will miss their chance to contribute.
You want to be a hero? Shut your mouth and refrain from saying, “How can you stand it? I’m from Greenville/Charlotte/Macon/Birmingham, and we don’t get terrible snows like this” (looking at the 3/4 inch accumulation). Eyes will brighten up. Smiles will spread across faces. The boss will tell everyone to get back to work. Someone will mention Smallville for the seventh time. And your neighbors will love you for the rest of your days.