Please Don’t Call Me Ma’am

After a week of vacation spent in sunny & hot Kelowna, followed by a hectic week of catch up, sorting through 468 new emails & hosting a surprise party for my Dad’s 65^th birthday, I’m back to my normal routine. I think.

A phenomenon has been sweeping across the province over the past year & I’m toying with how to deal with it. What exactly is going on you’re wondering? Well, simply put, I’m being addressed as ‘Ma’am’ and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

The first time it happened I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I was buying something really cool, stylish & youthful at H & M and the cashier, who was twenty something, finished off our transaction with, ‘Have a nice day, ma’am’. My stomach sank to the floor; I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around desperately hoping she was talking to someone else. She wasn’t. I was 33.

I worked retail jobs when I was in my early twenties and thought it was an unwritten rule that you just didn’t call someone ma’am unless they looked like a ma’am. What does a ma’am look like? Hair mostly grey, uses a cane/walker, wearing a floral blouse, hearing aid and orthopaedic shoes. Get the picture? Ma’ams are OLD.

THIS is a ma'am.

This is NOT a ma'am.

Just last week, we went to Subway before heading to the lake in Kelowna. The girl behind the counter called me ma’am three times during the creation of my sub. “Would you like cheese on that, ma’am?” “Would you like that toasted, ma’am?” “Would you like to make that a combo, MA’AM?” My boyfriend was snickering away, loving it.  The  lady behind us was about 80, had a sun visor on, a fanny pack was using a walker, in other words, an actual ma’am. She was addressed accordingly at which time my BF burst out laughing, whispering to me, ‘She’s a ma’am too!’ My blood was starting to boil as I continued to watch how the girl was addressing customers. A twenty something girl was next in line. This was her test. She was called ma’am too. My blood pressure returned to normal.

I’m called ma’am now weekly, if not daily, and depending on my mood, I’ll either internalize it & curse them in my head or call them on it. Hey, that’s what old people get to do, right? Speak their mind! Don’t hold back! Teach these young people some respect! My typical response, especially when it’s a 21 year old cashier is to ask, with genuine curiousity, “Do I really look like a ma’am?” to which they often respond with, “Oh, uh, no, sorry, it’s a habit” as they blush uncomfortably. I sometimes get a twinge of guilt for making them feel that way but it passes. Quickly.

I admit that I’m sensitive about aging. I used to get asked for ID at bars until I was 28. I LOVED it. I realize that I can’t live in a time capsule & look like a 19 year old. I do. I also think it’s rude to call a young person ma’am so I’m doing my part to stop it, one cashier at a time.

I’m 34. That’s still YOUNG. Please don’t call me ma’am.

When does it become appropriate to call someone ma’am? Have you ever been called ma’am prematurely? What’s the proper protocol to address it?