I took Sociolinguistics last semester from a professor who was raised in upstate New York. She moved to the South about 20 years ago, and is still amazed at the cultural differences. She said one of the hardest things for her to get used to was the preliminary formalities of Southern conversation. She would walk into someone's office and say "Hi, I need such-and-such," and the other person would become mightily offended. It took her a while to realize that down here you have to say, "Hi. How you been? How's your mama? How's your paper going? I went hiking last weekend and got into the biggest bunch of chiggers. Lord, they itch. By the way, I need such-and-such. Would you mind horribly?"

Reading Eugene Walter's account of his army service put me in mind of her:

When I was nineteen I was drafted and went off to basic training at Fort McPherson, Georgia. When I got to Georgia, they immediately put me to work. They had all these second lieutenants from New England who were supposed to be doing the registration. Of course, they didn't know how to deal with those backwoods boys. They would ask direct questions, like "What is your name?" "Where are you from?" and the backwoods boys wouldn't answer direct questions. So they got Private Walter, and they gave me an office. These boys would come in, and I'd say, "Well, howdy. I'm from Mobile. Where are you from?"
"Possum Hollow."
"Whoa, you-all got good hunting there. I been near Possum Hollow. I was at a place up the road called Richton. I was a CCC boy[*]."
"You were a CCC boy?"
"I was a CCC boy at Richton."
"My cousin went to Richton. He was a CCC boy."
And then I could say, "Now what's your name?" So I'd get the last name and I'd say, "Now I knew a J.T. Wideman up at Richton. That any kin to you?"
"I'm Billy Bob."
"What about your daddy? His name the same as yours?"
"No, Daddy's named John Ed."
"What was your mama's name before she married Mr. John Ed?"
"Well, she was a Muskrat."
Then they needed what church they go to, so I said, "Oh, Possum Hollow. They got that pretty little white church, got all the privet bushes around."
"Oh no, no, I went to the Methodist on the other side of the tracks."
So I could finally build their entrance form, from a conversation, you see, not from direct questions. But all those second lieutenants from New England were having nervous breakdowns because these boys would just sit there. They wouldn't talk to those Yankee boys. (Milking the Moon, 61)

*CCC stood for Civilian Conservation Corps. One of Roosevelt's New Deal programs, the Corps enlisted young men to plant trees in exchange for housing, food and a structured existence. According to Walter, the Corps also functioned as a reform institute of sorts - "The one I joined was a forestry camp in Richton, Mississippi. I was the only non-reform school boy in my group of fifty" (51).

There's also some (distinctly unSouthern) discussion of colloquialisms and formalities over on Lost in transit.