Do you recall the first time someone referred to you as ma’am, sir, lady, gentleman, Mr. or Ms. and how it felt?  I remember waiting tables the summer before college and hearing a customer tell her little boy, “Now tell the lady what you want”.  I was 18 and so freaked out that I promptly forgot what they ordered.  Ever since, the frequency of “age-honoring” name-calling has increased - and continues to freak me out.  But it wasn’t until this week that someone called me ma’am…  to ask me out!

I was totally baffled when the young man I stood near at a concert  chased me down the street - in nothing but a T-shirt in freezing cold - calling “ma’am, ma’AM!” after me.  At first I ignored him because, of course, he couldn’t possibly be referring to ME!  In my mind’s eye, at least, I am way too young to be called the dirty four letter word - ma’am!  Just as I was trying to talk myself out of being offended and figure out what I left behind to provoke this crazy-underdressed chase, he asked for my number!   Apparently, I struck him as “cool” and he was wondering if “ummm, he could, ummm, have my number”.  My mind scrambled to figure out how old he was - I swear, guessing 24 would be generous.  But I was too stunned to do anything but hand him my card.  Mind you, he pulled out his cell phone to record my number - gosh, and they used to look for a napkin and a pen in my day.

I woke up the next morning to find a text message on my phone.  It’s only recently that I’ve figured out how to retrieve text messages - I totally refuse to respond to them!  How I miss that napkin!  Apparently he texted me at 2am on a *Tuesday* (if you’re over 30 you get the emphasis!)  It was in a language I couldn’t fully comprehend but recognized (from reading sociological studies about the millennials) as Textish.  This is when it struck me that that perhaps the “Ma’am” label is not just a dirty word anymore - it’s more appropriate than I ever feared!  I am SO not as cool as he had thought - I don’t even text!

To be frank, I slightly resent this kid for chasing me down the street, calling me (out LOUD) by a label earned through years of experience, wisdom and denyal about technological advances!   I don’t care for any term that bursts my youthful bubble, no matter how much respect it implies or how accurate it is chronologically!  I propose we fine people who insist on using these labels until we’re good and ready.  We can indicate when it’s time by wearing a nametag that says “hello, my name is Ma’am”.  And no, I will not go out with you, Young Man, until you’re old enough to be considered a Sir!  So there.