The Upstory

Why do people call me “Hon?”

I’m not particularly cuddly. I’m not young. When I was a kid, my mom’s friends all called me “Hon.” That was decades ago and that was the last time I actually liked being called “Hon.” Coming from the lips of an older person, Hon is a term of endearment or maybe they forgot my name and Hon is a handy alternative.

When my aunt, mom, or women from The Granny Crochet Club called me Hon, I felt good about it. It was a verbal hug. I like it when my husband calls me Hon. He’s such a Hon himself.

But, somewhere along the line, I became Hon-intolerant. It was probably when I was in a meeting, as a full-fledged adult conducting business, and the woman across the table from me handed me the agenda and said “Here you go, Hon.”

Or maybe it was another time a co-worker (again a female — men tend not to say Hon because they know they’ll get their face ripped off) ran down the hallway after me saying “Hon, hon I need you to sign this.” Egad. That was the same person who called me (and to be fair, everyone else) Hon and Baby and Sweetie. I kid you not. If those are the choices, I’ll actually choose Hon. That time I stopped her and said with as much restraint as I could muster, “You can call me RaMar.” She gave me a blank look and then a puzzled look and then an annoyed look and then a hurt look.

Crikey. I felt bad because she was just being friendly and I had stepped on her Hon-hug. But she bounced back and in a week or so was back to calling me Hon, Baby and Sweetie. Now the whole Hon thing has taken a turn for the worse because my Baby Boomer-ness is showing and people who are younger than me are calling me Hon. I used to object on the grounds of unprofessionalism or you-don’t-know-me-well-enough, but now I’m being called Hon in a way that makes me feel as old as it is possible to feel.

I swear, every time someone of youth calls me Hon, I age about 10 years.

Mind you, if my daughter Holly is with me, things take a turn for the better. Or the different. We were at Verizon where I was getting another power cord and the guy helping us called me Hon. I didn’t react and neither did Holly. But we both noticed. Then he did it again and Holly got to him first.

“That’s disrespectful, “she said. So far so good. Then she said, “She’s old enough to be your mother.”

Suddenly I had a champion. I felt empowered. And enfeebled (yes, that’s a word. Look it up.).

The guy was confused. Yeah, he agreed nodding. Then he realized that was a mistake. And he switched over to calling me Ma’am. I don’t mind Ma’am. Or Miss. Those are titles and no one is getting chummy.

Since that moment, Holly has had the opportunity to do the Hon-dance a few other times.

I try to fight my own battles but I think this one is a lost cause. In more ways than one. Right, Hon?