- Jackson Browne

What is with the service industry and their sudden attempt at familiarity/camaraderie with average strangers such as me?

I’m not your baby. I’m not your darling. I’m not your sweetie. I’m not your babe. I’m not your honey. (Unless of course you are Matthew McConaughey, then sure, I’m all of those and more). If I don’t know you, if we’ve never met or shook hands, high fived, tatered, hugged, raised a toast, had a meal together, had a conversation that didn’t include you asking me if it was credit or debit or if I wanted sour cream and butter, then please don’t get cute and call me one of the aforementioned nicknames and the 9 million other ones I didn’t mention. I really mean it. It’s not endearing and it ain’t gonna help your tip.

Just like every rule, there are exceptions, and I can tell you that old people can get away with this no problem. If you’re someone’s grandmother, then yes ma’am, “Sugar” would like another glass of tea, thank you very much. But if you’re a twenty something waitress fighting a losing battle between your huge breasts and that horribly inappropriate spandex shirt, then I’m not babe, ok? And I have a sneaking feeling that none of my friends at the table are your babe, either.

Seriously.