From Depositphotos.
Years ago, when I was living in a different state, I received my one and only summons to jury duty in my entire life. I was pretty sure I’d never be selected for a jury: a relative who’d done time and an advanced degree.
The crime was violent, the lawyers unimpressive. I privately called them Dumb (the prosecution) and Dumber (the defense). They asked us questions. When Dumber came to me, he began, “Mrs. Goodwin…”
I forgot where I was. He knew I was single from the juror questionnaire. I burst out, “I am not Mrs. Goodwin. I am Ms. Goodwin or Dr. Goodwin.”
Dumber got flustered for a moment, apologized, and kept going. Needless to say, I was gone from the jury in a matter of minutes. Getting genuinely annoyed with the defense lawyer was added to the list of other reasons.
I thought of this when, in the same week, a dental assistant and a hair salon assistant – both of them strangers to me – called me “Miss Cathy.” We were not in the south. We were in a commercial setting. I was a paying customer, not their maiden aunt.
This incident bothered me. I don’t know if they were well-meaning people who were addressing my age or my single status or both.
So I posted in a social media forum: What was this all about?
Several people pointed out that “Miss Cathy” would be common in the South and in certain cultures. Other people said it’s better than “sweetie.” I don’t think we should have to choose. Still others said it’s better than “ma’am,” which I don’t mind: it’s the equivalent of “sir” in the military and (I believe) the police.
Of course, some people said the usual “get over yourself” and “it’s a first world” problem. I ignored those.
At least one medical center takes the matter seriously, but with laughable consequences. I get most of my care at PennMedicine, which has a world-class research reputation and a complete misunderstanding of some customer experience.
I’m not sure when or why PennMedicine decided not to call people Mr., Ms., etc., but instead required the staff (or so they told me) to address patients as either “Last name Goodwin” or by their first names.
Once a tech tried to bypass the regulations by calling me “sweetie.” I set her straight (she decided to call me “ma’am” since she couldn’t call me “Ms. Goodwin”) and never went back to that clinic.
One lab went a step further. They decided to give patients tickets with numbers when they checked in and called people up by their numbers. I felt like a chicken at a butcher shop and never went back to that lab.
To some people it’s not a big deal; a fortyish male told me the medical people call him “sweetie” all the time and he doesn’t mind. And some people from the South may be more tolerant; here in South Philly you’re more likely to hear unprintable alternatives to terms of endearment.
I’d probably have better blood pressure if I shrugged it off, but I believe that what you call me is sending a message.
At least in Philadelphia, when the person calling me that name is a stranger being paid with my good money, I’d like to be called “Ms. Goodwin.” And if you’re trying to win me over, like that lawyer was, I hope you’d consult your records and see what I checked when you demanded to know my marital status.
