Nothing makes me feel older 'n dirt than being called Ma'am. But that's my new handle. When I was moving in I went to Target to get a bookcase. As I was wrangling it into the back of my pickup a sweet young thing said, " Can I help you with that Ma'am?" After the urge to hit her over the head with it passed, I had to say, " Why yes, yes you can." And she did, with a big southern smile. I'm just gonna have to get over it. BUT at the orientation for Grad students in the Dept of Art History and Art Ed I asked some fellow students if I was in the right room and they all said in unison "Yes Ma'am"- I had to put my foot down. I asked them (somewhat politely) to NEVER call me ma'am again, ever. They all sputtered and started saying how they call everyone ma'am. yeh, right. Poor things I think I scared the beegeesoutathem. But hey, I'm sure we'll all be friends someday. Actually, it turned out to be a really great orientation. Got to meet them and all the profs. All good.
Today at the bookstore I topped out the ma'am 'o meter. So there ya go.
home sweet shoebox
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2 comments:
Dearest friend, I've read all you've written so far. You are an incredible writer, with such a great sense of humor. You go girl. Yes, you go "girl", not "Ma'am".
Keep up the good work.
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