There is a strange phenomenon that takes place at some
seemingly arbitrary point in one's life. It usually begins with
a rather insignificant social encounter. When it happens, a little internal groan oozes out of you along with a quiet
expletive like, "Oh, Oh..." or "Oh noooo..."
It is one of those life moments when you become aware that
you have crossed another identity zone. This incident smacks you in the face and throws you to the floor, from which you probably really won't be able to get up.
What I am referring to is that very first time when some
17 year old looks down at you sitting at a restaurant table
and says, "What can I get you Honey?" (or dearie, or sweetie, or the implied, you old thing.
When it happened to me, I instantly became one who desperately wanted to maintain my dignity. Since I was able to cover my angst through the discipline of professional training, I simply said, "Please don't call me Honey."
But did she apologize? No! Instead I received a contorted facial expression that seemed to say,
"This old thing certainly hasn't had her fiber today!" So I am left trying to learn how to live with this societal demotion...along with the curse of the blue placard. But that's another story....
seemingly arbitrary point in one's life. It usually begins with
a rather insignificant social encounter. When it happens, a little internal groan oozes out of you along with a quiet
expletive like, "Oh, Oh..." or "Oh noooo..."
It is one of those life moments when you become aware that
you have crossed another identity zone. This incident smacks you in the face and throws you to the floor, from which you probably really won't be able to get up.
What I am referring to is that very first time when some
17 year old looks down at you sitting at a restaurant table
and says, "What can I get you Honey?" (or dearie, or sweetie, or the implied, you old thing.
When it happened to me, I instantly became one who desperately wanted to maintain my dignity. Since I was able to cover my angst through the discipline of professional training, I simply said, "Please don't call me Honey."
But did she apologize? No! Instead I received a contorted facial expression that seemed to say,
"This old thing certainly hasn't had her fiber today!" So I am left trying to learn how to live with this societal demotion...along with the curse of the blue placard. But that's another story....
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