My rant for the day is about being called "Sweetie" by young women two generations younger than I am.
The waitress at the local deli today kept referring to me as "Sweetie."
"What can I get for you, Sweetie?" "How's the sandwich, Sweetie?" "Do you need change, Sweetie?"
Grrrr. Yes, I'm sure she meant it as affectionate solicitousness, so I held my tongue. But it felt demeaning, infantalizing.
It's true, I am old and use a cane. But I still have my mental faculties, am reasonably intelligent and competent, and I get around under my own steam.
I don't want stuffy formality either. No need for "Doctor" or "Sir." It's OK for nurses in my doctor's office to call me "Ralph." But not "Sweetie," please. Save that for when I am truly old, drooling unintelligibly, and need to wear a diaper.
Until then, talk to me like a competent adult -- at least as long as I'm acting like one.
Bah, humbug !!!
Ralph
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