Member-only story
Don’t You Honey Me!
Think About What You’re Actually Saying to People
When she was about 70, my mother began complaining that the grocery cashiers kept calling her sweetie and honey. It infuriated her.
“They’re just being polite,” I told her.
“Well, I don’t like it,” she said. Nothing I said could change her mind, so I just got used to hearing her complain.
When I was about 68 a waiter took my order and then said, “Will that be all, sweetheart?”
I nodded and she went off to do whatever. I asked my friend. “Did she just call me sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” My friend didn’t seem bothered by this, but something rankled inside me. How did the waiter know I was a sweetheart? Many people would assure her that I was an a-number one bitch of the highest order, a reputation I’d earned honestly.
I soon forgot about the incident until a month or so later I was in a department store looking at some blouses.
“Can I help you find something, dearie?” a clerk said as I shuffled hangers on the rack.
Dearie? I lost my desire for a new blouse. If she had to call me anything, why not ma’am? Or hey you?
I went home and looked in the mirror. Sure, I was well past being twenty years old, but I certainly didn’t look like some…
