Decorum Forum

Once upon a time, we lived in a world where people had manners.  Children showed respect to their elders.  Merchants referred to customers with deference.  You did not call a woman “of a certain age” by her first name unless invited to do so.

Normally, I do not cling to Victorian values.  I have spent my adult life breaking glass and breaking boundaries.  I am a bit taken aback by my own attitudes; however, I cannot help but bristle when children and strangers address me knowingly by my first name.

I was married in my early twenties.  At that time, it used to startle me when people in stores or doctor’s offices referred to me as Mrs. Dodson.  I used to make a joke about it, saying that was my mother-in-law’s name.  I would even look around, saying “Where?” as if expecting to find my husband’s mother standing behind me.  I was not opposed to the moniker—it just took time to get used to being regarded that way.

Somewhere between my twenties and becoming a parent in my thirties, the standards of acceptability changed dramatically.  I always taught my children to refer to their friends’ parents as “Mrs,” “Mr,” or, where appropriate, “Dr.”  I found it unseemly that my 8-year old would refer to his friends’ mothers as “Michelle” or “Sandy.”  My son and I discussed this often.  He claimed that these women invited him to call them by their first names, correcting him each time he used the more respectful “Mrs.”  I made it clear that I thought this was inappropriate, that children and parents were not peers, and that I would appreciate it if his friends addressed me with the more formal version of my name.  To this day, I credit my son’s vigilance for the fact that his hockey buddies always refer to me as “Mrs. Dodson.”  For some reason, this just seems right.

Apparently, the rest of the world did not get the memo.  When I hand my credit card to a sales clerk in Bloomindale’s, there is a predictable moment where the young girl glances at the card before handing me my purchase, saying, “Thank you, Ellen.”  This makes me crazy.  To tell the truth, I am not exactly sure why.  Is she crossing a line of familiarity that should not be breached by a complete stranger?  Or am I annoyed at the fact that a twenty-something is not being deferential to a fifty-something?  I confess that I expect certain privileges of rank now that I am older than the President of the United States.  If I am old enough not to get carded when I order a glass of Gewürztraminer, I think I am also old enough to be treated with due respect.  That youngster behind the counter and I are not friends.   Addressing me as “Mrs” maintains an appropriate arms-length relationship, while using my first name is a violation of my personal space.  It pierces the veil of anonymity that I choose to maintain as a shopper.  I suppose some wizard of customer service decided that if you call a customer by their first name they will believe that a personal relationship has been built.  

This problem is even more out of hand with phone sales.  The other day, I responded to a mail offer for a free estimate for new windows and doors, scheduling an in-home consultation for some planned sliding door replacements.  A day later, I received a phone call from the company’s mothership addressing both me and my husband by our first names.  The caller was concerned that my husband would not be at the appointment, since it was “their policy that both home owners be in attendance” for the visit.  What is interesting about this is that I was quite clear when I made the appointment that I would be taking the meeting alone (“You will meet with me alone, or you will not be doing business with us at all,” was what I said.)  In addition, I never gave them my husband’s name.   It was clear from the information used in this follow-up phone call that they had done a background check on us and our property.  I suppose at this point it was appropriate that he address me by my first name, because he was now quite intimate with our personal details.

I realize that it is naïve to think that I can maintain privacy in a world where so much information is only a click away.  But if I can’t have my illusions, can I at least have a modicum of old-fashioned respect?

Tomorrow's blog:  I, sostenuto