At What Point Did “Ma’am” Go From Polite To Insult?

At my age, the politics of politeness has become nothing short of a sore subject. When did being addressed as “ma’am” become an insult? I’m not sure, but I think it happened somewhere in ‘the middle”.

As the world gets slicker, hipper and higher tech, the faces behind the youth culture seem driven by a techno-retro mash up of hormone muted androgyny melding into one doe-eyed, pale, unnaturally smooth-faced, childlike avatar standing behind the cash register at my local supermarket. Or, is she a hologram projected from above out of what I had always assumed was a security camera? My shifting perceptual ground aside, warped by time though it may be, I can make no better excuse for my mood other than youth or whatever this is, is definitely under my skin today.

I can’t help feeling more insulted than respected each time this four letter word, “ma’am” is hurled at me like an accusation of some vague crime I’d committed or something I’d been so careless as to lose, like my youth.

For the love of Pete, I’ll bet my holograms these kids can’t even spell “ma’am” correctly with it’s two syllables (NOT one), and a fancy apostrophe situated where else, but smack “in the middle”, thank you very much.

I, for one, don’t give a toot how polite it may be to address women of a “certain age” as “ma’am” and I wouldn’t be happier if I never heard the word again. And another thing, if you must ask me “Are you eligible for any discounts today?” why don’t you be a dear and just take the ten percent off already. I mean really, if you have to ask, don’t you think I deserve some sort of compensation for presenting this age-ridden mug in public?

I am especially suspicious and annoyed when a woman, appearing undoubtedly older than I, hurls “ma’am” at me like it’s a hot potato she’s flinging out of her own over baked oven and into my mitt-less hands. I know she’s as pissed about the whole “aging thing” as I am, but there’s no need to take another sister down is there?

I suppose, I too could start “ma’am-ing” women younger than myself for a bit of revenge, but I’m quite sure it won’t have the same effect on them because I can’t even remember being called “ma’am” under the age of say, mid forties even if it happened. These younglings all know the rules too; you’re pretty much “ma’am proof” until around age 30. Then, all’s fair in age and war, right?

Now, hear this, ladies and gentlemen, young and old, here’s a thought, a suggestion, a plea, if you will. How about you don’t call me, or any woman looking to be over 30-ish anything? Reserve your politeness for the ailing or very old, trust me, they won’t mind.

What harm would there be in simply addressing me directly?

“Ma’am” is not required or necessary and believe me your tone and smile will convey your respect much more effectively than “ma’am-ing” me to death. I won’t think you rude, I promise. And if you’re waiting my table or serving me a beverage, I guarantee you this, you’ll get a much bigger tip if you drop the “ma’am”!

So listen up, while I’m grappling with the march of time I don’t need you “ma’am-ing” me to oblivion. Got it? If you don’t understand my ire today, trust me, one day you will.

s lynn knight- 2016

From: Diary Of A Woman In The Middle- 1st Entry