What’s in a name, you may ask?
Someone once asked it…… Shakespeare, or whoever it was.
I tell you, in my life I have learned that a nice name, called in a certain way, can be not so nice.
Once, way back when, I was driving on threadbare tires with several patches. They, in fact, resembled a quilt.
I needed tires, but I was more broke than a Milli Vanilli cd!!
My neighbor informed me that he could “see the air” through my tire!!
It had not started leaking yet, so I started shopping by phone.
Now, you would think this task would be simple…tell the type of tire, get the price, hang up, do it again till you get what you consider a better than the others, price.
Now, maybe I am too touchy. Maybe I am just old, crotchety and ill as a hornet.
Or maybe I just don’t like condescending folks who think because you are a woman you “ain’t got no sense.”
“Blah Blah Tire, hep ya?”……….the male voice answers.
“Hi….I’m price checking for tires for a blah blah, size blah blah…” I say.
Now, my brother was with me. He was standing by to nod or shake his head at the prices I got.
“Let’s seeeeee….” The male voice said.
“You can get the whole set for “498.50.” He quoted.
I thanked him and hung up.
My brother had an idea. He called the same place back and asked the same question I did.
“Weird…” the male voice said to my brother. “We just had a lady ask about the same tires…I can get the whole set for you for 300.00.”
I went into full hissy fit mode. I grabbed the phone.
My brother’s eyes were VERY big when I said………….and I quote…
“WHAT THE CRAP? I just called you and you quoted a WOMAN a much higher price than you quoted to a MAN?? What kind of sexist business are you running there? You don’t like women?”
“Look here, LADY………….” He said.
That did it. I refuse to be called “Lady” in this context.
“YOU look here GENTLEMAN…” I retorted, in my best Zip City growl. “Your butt is about to belong to the Better Business Bureau!”
He hung up.
I paced the floor. I drank Pepsi. I drank coffee. I snarled and used bad words. I shook and trembled. I wanted sweet revenge. I wanted to see blood and guts and tires burning in their metal building. I wanted his wife to divorce him and take his favorite dog. I wanted him to get herpes. I wanted all things bad for him…………
I wanted to tie him to a chair and force him to listen to recordings of children riding in the back seat on a long trip…
My brother calmed me down and we made a few more calls. I got the tires at a decent price, somewhere else.
You must understand I was a single mom with two kids who grew faster than Jack’s beanstalk.
It seemed that every other day they needed new clothing, or risk being sent home with an appointment at the DHR for how I dressed them.
I still don’t like to be called “Lady.” Not that I’m not a lady…..well, that may be going a bit too far….I usually am not a lady, unless I have to be….like at funerals and grandparents day and such.
The word, “Lady”, used in the tire man’s context, indicates that I am small, stupid, fell off the turnip truck yesterday, and don’t have the smarts God would give a Billy goat!
I would much rather be called “Dahlin” or “Queen Darla” which is my Kudzu
Queen name, or “Big Momma” which in no way indicates that I am a darling, or a leader of a monarchy, or big. It’s just what I am accustomed to.
Oh, and also, sometimes I am addressed as “Sweeeethearrrrrt”……if Tony is home and has lost his reading glasses or can’t find the chocolate chip cookies. I’m okay with that……………..
