Don’t call me baby



Please don’t judge me for buying “corporate coffee”. I have this great little independant coffee shop near work where I normally go. But unfortunately it’s become far too popular now, and so it can sometimes take five to ten minutes for a simple flat white.

The only unfortunate thing about “corporate coffee” is that you get treated like a “customer”. “Is there anything else boss?”, the bloke behind the counter said to me today. “Boss?”, I thought to myself. “Do I look like the owner of a cotton plantation?”, I wondered uncomfortably.

One of the things that really shits me about getting older, and about customer service is the way I’m addressed these days. I hate it when people, especially taxi drivers call me “Sir”, for example. Actually any form of honorific that implies I’m somehow “better” than them. I know they’re just being polite, but surely there’s another way of being polite without sounding so awfully submissive?

And then of course, you have “mate” which sounds totally insincere, even though it shouldn’t, because it’s such an egalitarian word.

In essence, I think I’d like people in shops etc to drop words like sir, mate, boss etc…. and just tell me how much something costs and to wish me a happy day.

Anyway, off my soapbox.

As Tom has observed everyone seems to have left Sydney. It was bloody quiet on the roads and footpaths to and from work today, in stark contrast to work itself which was as busy as ever. I work in an industry that continues 24×7 while others go into slowdown mode at this time of the year. Consequently, I’m working through including Boxing Day. Be warned, you might even hear those once-dulcet tones of a has-been make a brief re-appearance in the next week or two.

And if you do, and you bother to call, don’t call me sir!