We never have just one name. I have spent a while considering the number of different ways in which I had recently been addressed. The realisation also came, that being older appears to give more licence for those we meet to be free and easy with the various forms of address which are available to them . . .
I am addressed in different ways,
If the cap fits, then I wear it.
I do not mind, I’ve learnt to accept,
So I just grin and bear it.
“Well, there you are, my lovely”, the waitress warmly said.
I shrivelled in my seat . . . not feeling in the least bit lovely.
“Take your change, old fella”, as the shopkeeper mouthed goodbye.
Honest, I suppose, but unkind . . . I let it pass with a sigh.
“Don’t forget your hat, young man”,
Came the cheeky reminder from a bumptious innkeeper –
Sarcastic enough to hurt my seniority.
“Cheerio ducks, enjoy your day”,
Such jollity from the buxom barmaid,
As if it wasn’t already past my sleep-time,
“Goodbye” was all it needed.
“On your way now , darling”, the cheery matron muttered,
As if I was lingering languidly
And delaying her siesta.
Brusquely bustled aside with an
“Out o’ the way, mate, don’t hold up the British working man.”
My presence effectively disregarded.
“Hiya, Mister, got a quid for a fag?”
Mister, being generic,
My catch-all name … Bought for a pound.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
Kindly meant but formulaic,
Curt but kind
I think you’ll find.
“Come in, Honey … You’re very welcome.”
Warm reception from the receptionist,
No deception.
And so, my dear,
To make it clear,
How I address you
Fits how I assess you.
Roland's Ragbag 
Thought provoking -thank you!
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… and thank you for commenting, Cate.
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Beside the point I have to tell you how surprised I got on my first visit to the local bakery
in a Yorkshire village. ” What can I do for you, Love ” … made me wonder if this was a very loving land. I was young then.
Your fun and sad poem seems to be a reflection on a habit of addressing people by invading their private space and talking down. That is indeed judging themselves.
miriam
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“Judge not that ye be not judged.” Thanks for your comment, Miriam.
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I was always “Me dook” to the station staff at Newark during my 19 years’ commute to London.
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Not a salutation I’ve heard of. Unless it’s a dialect corruption of ‘duck’.
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That is what it is. And a common endearment in Newark, so must be given in the vernacular 🙂
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