Call 'em all honey

We have a new male vs. female argument at the Marble household. It revolves around my use of the word “hon”…as in thanks “hon” appreciate it “hon”.

For clarification purposes I should note that the men in my home do not object to me calling any of them “hon”. They are also only mildly belligerent when I call Fez-the-wonder-puppy “hon”. No. They save their “hon” badgering for when I use it to refer to waitresses.

That’s right. I call women I do not know “hon”. (I call men/waiters I don’t know “bud”.)

Maybe its part of the public relations game that makes me very uncomfortable when I can’t remember someone’s name. Even when it is a member of a restaurant’s wait-staff I feel the need to use their first name…and use it often.

Many times when we eat out, the waiter or waitress is a former student at Crowder or someone I know from parent events at Central School. If I can’t remember their first name it starts driving me nuts. I invariably call them “hon”…which then drives Big Al and the boys up the wall.

In fact, a couple of months ago, they bet me money that I couldn’t go the whole meal without calling the waitress “hon”. Am I competitive – you bet. Always ready to add to my Brighton jewelry collection – you bet. I was game.

Five minutes later I’m calling her “hon” after she brought some more tea. I lost. Lost my pride and had to endure the jabs and ribbing throughout the rest of the meal.

You know it’s a weird thing. I don’t mind if a woman calls me “hon”, but if I guy said it (who wasn’t family) I would think they were either condescending or odd.

Maybe its just one of those nurturing, wonderful, caring things about being a girl or maybe I’m a nerd.

Either way. I would rather be called “hon” by someone who obviously couldn’t remember my name, but wanted to be nice. Than addressed as Lori by some snobby chick. How about you?