Enthusiastic and unrestrained Westerners are most of the time perceived by Southerners as devoid of manners and vulgar, even though the truth is not that and it is just an excuse to improve oneself and despise others.

When people gather around some of the more upscale banquets around certain celebrities and dignitaries with their sleeves rolled up, their necklines torn up, and their wine glasses laughing loudly and with their smiles in a knowing and pandering manner, their loud voices and disheveled clothes are full of charm in the eyes of the people.

As if they should do that, and if they don't, they won't be able to show their unique identity and style.

But in a small bar in the middle of nowhere, if a farmer in a cheap bib and a straw hat rolls up his sleeves, tears his neckline, and laughs loudly with a wine glass in his hand, these people will only cast a disdainful look.

Perhaps the socialite, magnate, and dignitary said that things were not elegant, but were natural phenomena of some organs and some physiological aspects.

Maybe the farmer wasn't talking about the weather, about the news in society, and about the yearning for a better life.

People will not evaluate their status because of other people's thoughts, that is a vulgar behavior, only after seeing the other party's status, power, wealth and all the social labels that can add value to themselves, will they show an appropriate expression, which is the elegance of the upper class.

As to whether indecent is really indecent, whether elegance is really elegant, that is a question for philosophers.

Labour's approach in the South does not apply to the West, where the workers are more like ...... In some TV dramas, the workers who have a certain "role" will hold the box of fried chicken with two fingers, and then sit with friends with their fruit wine.

Twist your body in a very elegant and subtle way, wave your arms, and make some small movements to express your inner pleasure at this time.

They will be very gentle and elegant, and then choose to stop at the right time, thank each other and say goodbye, and then leave the workers' club.

But in the state of Ambiluo......

"Hey, chick, is there any fried chicken?" said a farmer who had rolled up his sleeves in winter to reveal his hairy arms, wrapped his tongue around his teeth, cleaning the shreds of flesh between his teeth, and slapping the table with great noise.

The waitress looked a little embarrassed, and she walked to the counter and whispered to the manager, "I can't imagine what happened to me, it's not the same as what I've heard from other places!"

Girls are not local, and the state of Ambiluo is still a relatively conservative and traditional region, and the biggest indulgence of women living here is to allow them to work in places that do not "hurt" themselves and their families.

The girls who serve dishes in establishments like bars are basically from somewhere else, or from the owner's family – if anyone dares to do something, the boss will take out the gun under the counter.

But apparently that's not the case here, the manager put a fried chicken on the plate with an equally ugly face, squeezed out a smile, "Bear with me, and soon they will calm down, you know, people are always excited in the early days of taking advantage." ”

This kind of rhetoric can only deceive themselves, and the girl has been slapped with a big greasy hand on her drum, and then she laughs and leaves the group of farmers and cowboys who smell of sweat, and she can't stand it all!

The manager was also a little unbearable, and in other workers' clubs, the workers would be very polite and modest, and they would just receive a fried chicken and a glass of cider and find a place to sit quietly.

But look at this hellish place, the farmers and cowboys outside call themselves workers, pay a ninety-nine cent, join the Labour Party, and enter the club.

Then they began to eat and drink freely, without the slightest shame, and some even had breakfast at the workers' clubs, and they also said that free fried chicken and cider were a promise of them by the Labour Party.

How can the guys from the southern cities make the opponents of this group of rough men in the west hit their chests with one word of discord, choke their necks with two words of discord, and start tearing their clothes with three words of discord, and before they could do anything, almost everyone knew a great piece of good news.

All you have to do is spend 99 minutes to fill out an application form to join the Labour Party, and then you can go to the workers' clubs to eat and drink for nothing, from morning to night, absolutely non-stop.

At first, the workers' club thought that it was just because the western buns were excited, wanted to eat a piece of 99 cents, and had the idea of taking advantage.

Not to mention eating fried chicken and fruit wine every day, as long as you feel sick and want to vomit when you see those things after eating three meals a day, these people will naturally not be like this place as they are now.

Facts have proved that these people's ideas are too simple, and this little grease has never been a problem for the working people in the western region who have been engaged in heavy manual labor for a long time in the past.

Looking at the overly drunk farmers and cowboys outside the bar and beating each other up in the street, and the other drunks cheering and singing for them, the manager felt that this was not the way to go.

Yes, that's right, there are quite a few big capitalists in the Labour Party preparatory group in Ambiluo, and their attitude is very clear: it doesn't matter how much money is spent, but the Labour Party organization must be established as soon as possible.

But...... On this day, hundreds of thousands of "food expenses", I'm afraid these capitalists can't bear it, right?

While he was thinking about something, a cowboy slapped the bar and hooked his finger at the manager, "Another fried chicken." ”

The manager was just a little slower, and the cowboy reached out and dragged the fried chicken hanging next to him, tore off a large piece of breast meat, and squeezed towards the crowd outside with a smile.

These bitches raised them, the manager scolded secretly.

Early the next morning, the cowboys who had come for breakfast gathered outside the workers' club.

As was normal, the club would have opened its doors and opened for business, but today the doors were closed and a sign hung outside.

Most of the farmers and cowboys were not literate, and it took a while for a literate farmer to arrive, and under his guesswork and speculation, everyone learned the bad news that free fried chicken and fruit wine were no longer available in the morning and at noon.

This is also the decision made after the manager went back to discuss with the preparatory team after the business ended last night.

If it were to be turned into a "canteen", Labor's growth in Ambiloo would stop at providing free fried chicken and cider.

If they want to get the slightest bit of work done, they have to make the farmers and cowboys aware of the serious problem that there is no such thing as free fried chicken and cider, and that there is no limit to it.

If they want to get these things, they have to pay a corresponding price, which is their loyalty.

The people in the preparatory team are well aware of the specific situation in Ambiluo and are very accurate in their positioning, and they do not expect to achieve their goal of promoting themselves by challenging Durin's majesty in Ambiluo.

Their idea is to constantly organize large-scale activities and rallies of Labour members, raise their voices in the community, put forward the necessary demands, and then take the initiative to find ways to solve these demands, so that the Labour Party can gain a higher social status and the respect of the people.

With these two points in place, the Labour Party has initially established its own system and maintained this scale, and they can try to touch the scepter in the process of quietly growing.

In fact, what they have to do is what they have always done, only this time their enemies are no longer the capitalists, but the politicians, who have united with the capitalists and turned their enemies into friends.

But in any case, the first step is to make these workers of the Labour Party, the farmers and cowboys, understand that if they want to eat fried chicken, drink fruit wine, and harass the waiters, then they have to be obedient.

The approach of southerners is very subtle, which is also the understanding of most westerners about southerners, and they always express some simple questions in a very complex way.

Just like the sign hung this morning, in fact, the club can explain the situation directly - they can't afford to play by this group of wireless refills, and only provide dinner.

Such a statement may seem direct and rude, but it can work very well, and people here eat it.

But this kind of refusal without saying anything has made some farmers and cowboys unhappy, Made, we spent a ninety-nine for a few days to eat and then planned to close, this is a fraud, right?

Right, this must be a scam.

Some of the working farmers and cowboys left with a curse, they were not satisfied, but it was not too much of a loss to be able to come and eat in the evening.

After these people dispersed, the other group of people left without any interest, and after a while of shouting, they also left.

The manager hid in the club and smiled at the dejected departure of the coarse farmers and cowboys, and smiled with satisfaction.

That's right, how could he become a cook who served fried chicken in the future, big and small, as an important member of the Labor Party organization in the Honshu branch?

Moreover, his plans do not stop there.

In the evenings, a large number of hungry farmers and cowboys who have worked all day or slept somewhere gather here and ask about the smell as soon as they walk into the club.

The smell of fried chicken and the aroma of fruit wine are really good, and everyone seems rude, but in fact, they have purposefully found their place and prepared for a hearty dinner.

After the waitress pushed the cart to distribute the fried chicken and cider to them, the men began to enjoy the feast with cheers until a plate slammed to the floor.

A thin-looking, probably thirty-year-old farmer stood in front of the manager, his plate shattered into several pieces at his feet, and he glared at the manager with a cold gaze, "I'll say it again, give me fried chicken and fruit wine!"

The manager looked expressionless and a little solemn, in fact, his legs and stomach began to cramp, he just refused the farmer's request, he just shook the plate, and then showed such a vicious expression, it was too scary.

But thinking of his plan and the promise made by the chairman and deputy leader of the preparatory team, he could only hold on to it.

As if feeling that his momentum could not be weaker than that of this thin farmer, he straightened his chest and twisted his neck, and repeated in a loud voice, "No, I refuse to offer you anything more!"

The thin farmer took a step forward, the muscles on his cheekbones beating irregularly, although he looked thin, he gave people the impression of being more aggressive, "Reason, little white face, if you don't give me a reason, I'll tear you up......"

After a brief silence, the surrounding farmers and cowboys began to whistle and coax, and some people kept applauding, and some people shouted "give that sissy from the south a little color", and the atmosphere suddenly became more enthusiastic than before.

The manager swallowed, and he looked at the other stares full of banter, sarcasm, ridicule, and anticipation waiting to see the excitement, and felt that his scalp had lost consciousness.

"I ...... Again, everyone only has one free fried chicken and cider per day, and it's not for you, it's for everyone. ”

It didn't seem that the manager was too weak, in fact he was already cowardly, he was just explaining that he was not targeting him, but this sentence made the workers' club quiet again.

Farmers and cowboys rolled up their sleeves and crowded around him, their unkind eyes swept over him over and over again, making him cold.

"Little white face, you'd better explain what it means to target all of us......"

snapped, I don't know who suddenly stretched out his arm and slapped him, he was dizzy and his eyes were black, and he hurriedly sorted out the messed hair with both hands, as if as long as the hairstyle was not messy, he could maintain his broken dignity.

The bright red marks on his face soon swollen a little, and his eyes began to dodge a little, and several cowboys chased after him, some of whom drew knives.

If it hadn't been for a scream that calmed down these hot-blooded cowboys, perhaps the next day's newspaper would have reported the matter in more detail.

The waitress, who had become accustomed to being taken advantage of, held the tray between the cowboy and the manager, and she stared at the cowboys, and out of nowhere came a laugh full of contempt and disdain, and soon everyone began to laugh.

The cowboy who pulled out the knife stuck the knife back into the cowhide scabbard, he walked up to the waitress, pinched the girl's chin and kissed the girl on the face, and the laughter of the people became louder.

It's not humiliation or blasphemy, it's gratitude.

If it weren't for the girl blocking him, if he stabbed him in the wrong place after drinking wine and blood, he might have been in prison for many years.

So it's not humiliation, it's gratitude, deep gratitude.

From this day on, no one harassed the girl again, but of course that's another story.

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