After giving us menus and a few minutes to decide on our order, a waiter arrived at our table of mature women asking “Are we ready to order?” What? I didn’t remember inviting him to dine with us. Oh. I get it. He spoke the royal “we.” Mistake number one. Then he addressed me, “What will you have, dear?” Mistake number two, and a tiresome one at that. I cannot remember when I last found this overly familiar term of en-dear-ment endearing, but it’s been a while. He could have made a common mistake number three: “How are you young ladies today?”, a question posed by servers, usually young males, to groups of not so young women. Although the waiter may think he’s showing respect, courtesy, I detect a note of condescension in these various salutations.
My generation not only tolerates names such as “dear”, “hon”, “sweetie” but also uses unsuitable ones. For example, in a meeting about recruiting new volunteers to our local museum, one gentleman declared “we want to attract the geriatrics.” I gasped. “Did you just call us geriatrics?” “Well, that’s what I am,” said the robust 70 year-old. I responded sternly: “I may be too but will never call myself one.”
Having come of age, I notice service providers and health professionals increasingly engage in “elderspeak” when interacting with older women — and with older men too, though perhaps not as frequently. Elderspeak results from or contributes to ageism, a form of judgment based on age differences. Like a racist and a sexist, an ageist discriminates against an “other” based on a perceived difference. But an ageist will one year join our group, if he or she is fortunate to grow into older age. Thus ageists, unwittingly, insult their future selves.
The fact is the young often don’t grasp that most older people feel much the same as their youthful selves. While I readily admit to looking all of my wise years, I do not appear — or feel — enfeebled or diminished. I do not want to be the subject of elderspeak.
Note to everyone in the service and health care professions: reserve terms of endearment for close family members and friends. If you know the person’s name, use it. If not, then madam or sir will suffice. Even better, make eye contact and simply ask: “What may I get or do for you?”
Instead of crying “oh sh_ _” when missing a tennis shot, I exclaim “oh dear!” That’s an appropriate use of the word. •
P.S. While nicknames can be fun, endearing even, I don’t much favour generic terms of endearment at any stage of life. My name is personal, precious even. No one wears it as I do, and I appreciate people calling me by it. Daniel Day-Lewis gets it right in The Crucible when he howls his defence: “Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life.”
Brandon says
Another great blog post dear.
Pam McPhail says
Very droll!
Glen Wickens says
Interesting that a first name never sounds shopworn or cliche like dear or darling. Best stick to someone’s given name even in a close relationship. From now on, it will be only Pam for me!
Pam McPhail says
Or, like my mom, you can call me Pamela if you’re annoyed or upset with me!
Marie McLean says
I also hate the “dear.” Or when someone says you are “cute.” This experience highlights for me how I have lived a privileged life as a white woman with no visible disabilities. It’s humbling to know that when these strangers look at me, all they see is my age. Even worse, when I was talking to my NIECE, saying I wouldn’t wear a certain style, she just stopped short of saying that it wouldn’t really matter at my age. Unfortunately, one does run the risk of being branded a “grumpy old lady” if you speak up.
Pam McPhail says
You’re right, Marie. It’s difficult for us to take corrective action without appearing as the stereotype we’re trying to dispel.
Ian Wallace says
This is a really excellent post which I am going to reflect upon for a while as I fear I may be a bit of an outlier in this discussion. You see, for decades on visits to England, shop girls/ladies/assistants have often greeted me as “love”! How nice is that? But, now that I think about it, I suppose no younger woman ever addressed me in such intimate terms. No matter. Also, when Australians call me “mate” I feel quite delighted to be considered almost a personal chum! What really gets my goat in restaurants, as my dear wife will attest, is when we are greeted by staff with a jaunty, “How are you guys doin?'” or “What can I get you guys?” Even if I live to be 100 I will never get used to such grating overfamiliarity! O dear…
Pam McPhail says
I don’t object when people in the service industry use cheery greetings across the generations. I suspect the British assistants call everyone “love,” for instance. But no one called me “dear” when I was forty, so this word, and others, reflects ageism — to which I do object. Mildly. I agree with you about the misuse of “guys”, however jauntily employed.
Linda says
I am in 100% agreement with you Pam. Every time I hear the royal ‘we’ as in ‘How are we today?’ I am so tempted to say I am great but I don’t know about you. It is the same when asked if ‘Are we ready to order?’
I am also very offended when men or woman call me ‘dear’. I have on occasion told the server not to call me that.
I too don’t feel my age and don’t need strangers to remind me of such.
Glad others feel the same, I thought I was just being picky or bitchy, take your pick.
Great article.
Pam McPhail says
Well said, Linda. We’re in agreement — in our pickiness!
Roy dear says
It probably won’t surprise you that I have at times responded to the condescending “dear” with a comeback that includes “darling” or “sweetheart” with just the right amount of /sarc.
Pam McPhail says
No surprise. Score one for anti-ageism.
Vicki Smith says
So , Cougar is a no go also?
Pam McPhail says
“Cougar” reveals sexism not ageism. As you know, there’s no equivalent term for an older man “sleeping” (a tired euphemism) with a younger woman. If a woman wants to call herself a cougar, so be it. But I don’t think others should apply the label to her.
A surprising coincidence, Vicki: your comment on my post appeared on a day I was cooking mussels for dinner, following a method Andy showed me one evening years ago at your house.