Life Short. Short & Sweetie

hon, honey, dear…

Recently I did the right thing, and had x-rays taken of my unhappy knees. The young x-ray technician called me, at various times throughout the procedure, “hon, honey, dear.” It annoyed the hell out of me. She was holding my chart. She could have called me Lynda, Miss Lynda, Miss Bernard, Ms. Bernard, Mrs. Bernard. I have a thing about what I consider put-down language to women my age. It makes me crazy. I could feel my inner dragon getting restless. I didn’t say anything until I was ready to leave. And then I said sweetie, learn to call a person by their name. It’s called respect, dear, respect. I walked out into the hall, gave myself a high five, and my inner dragon went back to sleep.