Tuesday, October 23, 2007

"Thank You, Sir"

Do you remember the first time somebody, probably younger than you, called you Sir or Madam? Well, I don't. Who cares. I don't care what people call me. I'd rather a stranger call me sir than call me by my first name.

I have a day job where I work on the phone. I talk to many strangers daily and it just creeps me out, or maybe it just makes me feel violated, when a stranger calls me by my first name. Unfortunately, one of the expectations of my job is to tell the customer right up front what my name is, so it's out there, ready to be turned back at me. Luckily, about 37% of the time, customers are as bad with names as I am, and they forget my name altogether, then there's the other 23% that don't bother using my name, but that leaves the remaining 40% of customers who feel compelled to use my name to shape some sort of rapport out of our three minute phone conversation.

Now, out of the 40% that use my name, there's that rare 4% that are lonely, most-likely elderly, and feel that not only do they need to use my name, but they need to have a conversation about their time in the Navy, or their new great grandchild, or how they use to pay 5 cents per gallon for gas. Somehow, despite my heart being a dark, baron wasteland, I almost don't mind them saying my name. It's those young, brash, "everyone wants to be my friend" douche bags that get to me when throwing around the name my mama gave me.

So, to review my self-righteous rant, I don't mind being called sir, or mister, or big guy, or dude. Just don't call me by my name until you know me.

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