The other day on my lunch hour I was down at a beauty supply store in the mall buying some new shampoo. Buying new product, even if it is a simple bottle of soap to wash my hair can put a little extra spring in my step for the day.
Something in a little bag with handles that I get to take home with me!
By now you must think this post is about the new shampoo that I took home, tried, loved and cannot live without.
You are wrong.
I proceeded to the check out to pay the sweet young thang behind the counter. She put my ‘poo in a bag and handed it to me.
“Thank you!” I said, with a pleased-with-my-purchase smile.
“You’re Welcome!” she chirped, “Have a good day…MA'AM.”
Talk about the spring being knocked out of my step.
Now I know I am no longer in my twenties. Or early thirties.
But I know one thing, I am not a Ma'am.
The buzzy-high from my shampoo purchase was washed away likes suds down the drain as I walked out the door.
Call me disrespectful but I would never call another woman Ma'am, regardless of her age. The only time that word ever comes out of my mouth is when I am singing Suffragette City screaming "WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM" along with David Bowie.
I played out the scenario with the stranger over and over in my head. Was what I was wearing a little too matronly? My hair wasn’t up in an old lady bun or anything - I must look old, something must have shifted, I need Botox!!!
Then I calmed down. A little.
Maybe she just had good manners and called anyone who is older than her Ma'am?
Maybe she was southern?
I don’t know. Let this be a lesson to all you young’uns out there. I am guessing most women under the age of fifty don’t find it flattering or polite to be called the “M” word. The other “M” word, "Miss", I can deal with that. I just don’t want to hop on that Ma'am train just yet.
Or probably ever.