You Can Call Me Sir.
This blogger at Boomer Cafe doesn’t like to be called Ma’am. She encountered a punk kid at the grocery line who had the audacity to call her Ma’am. The skater is lucky this boomer broad didn’t take out her .38 and put a cap in his ass. How dare him call her Ma’am in front of everybody. 🙂
Hey, when anybody calls me Sir, I’ll take it. “Yes, sir. No, sir. Right away Sir.” Music to my ears.
However, I sure can identify with this statement:
You notice it in how people, younger people, look at you—or don’t look at you at all. It’s more like they just look through you, like you’re not even worth taking note of. You used to be tall or short, cute or pretty or handsome. Now you’re just generic. A generic pre-geriatric Boomer. Hardly worth a glance.
OMG, I hate that feeling. Blah. Downer. Who do I complain to? “Jeez, honey, that twenty-something didn’t even notice I was trying to hold my belly in.”
That’s gonna be tough to get used to – being ignored.
Being ignored is the very worst. One time my dad and sister and I came into a fast food resturant. It was just like the people behind the counter couldn’t see is. I don’t know if we had an episode of spontaneous human invisibility, but after people who arrived after us were promptly attended to and served, we finally just got up and left. But it was really strange, being ignored. It almost made me want to run up to one of those fast food workers and grab them by the ***** CENSORED **** and let them know that we were a little perturbed by their ignoring us. In fact, this was the only time in many years that I saw my normally meek and mild father begin to get a little hot under the collar. So I don’t think I will ever get used to being ignored. But I suppose there are times when being ignored is good… like in a bank robbery or something.
Yup. Fast food workers are the best at looking past EVERYBODY!
Thanks for writing.