The woman in the next booth hissed at her husband, “Did she just call you honey?”
“It’s the Waffle House,” he explained, “it’s what the waitresses do.”
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“You can’t visit the south and not eat at a Waffle House,” he said. “Try the pecan waffles, you will love them.”
“I don’t eat waffles,” she said.
That much was obvious. She was uncomfortably thin and dressed to show it. She wore a tight black skirt, black sweater and the blackness of her hair could only come from chemistry. Perhaps her thinness had something to do with her attitude, it put her nerves too close to the surface.
“Then order something else,” he said.
She flicked the menu card over. “There is NOTHING here I would eat.”
“Then order eggs,” he said, “I know you eat eggs.”
“She didn’t call me honey,” she said.
The guy just stared at her. He knew what was coming.
“She is flirting with you, isn’t she? And you are letting her do it.”
“It is all in good fun,” he explained.
The waitress strolled by with a pot of coffee and topped off his mug. “Are we ready to order?” she asked.
“No!” the woman said.
The waitress moved on.
“Excuse me,” the woman called after her “I’d like another glass of water….. Please!!”
“Sure, be right with you, Sugar.”
“Did you hear that?” the woman said.
“She called me sugar!”
“See!” the guy said, “they call everyone either honey or sugar.”
“No!” she said, “She called YOU honey and ME sugar.”
“What’s wrong that?”
“Sugar is what you call a child, not a grown woman. It’s a put down.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she is flirting with you.”
The guy groaned and put his face in his hands. “Sure,” he said through his palms, “she’s buttering me up because she knows I am the one who will be paying the bill and leaving her a tip.”
“WHAT?” the woman said. “That is the most sexist thing I ever heard.”
“But it’s true.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Okay, you pay.”
“I can’t. I don’t have my purse.”
“You don’t think she noticed?”
“Okay, lend me a $20 and I will pay.”
“Because you will stiff her.”
“She deserves to be stiffed.”
“Why? For flirting?”
“She works for tips.”
“You mean she flirts for tips. You don’t find that sleazy?”
“Not as sleazy as stiffing a hard-working waitress.”
“She’s using sex for favors.”
“You mean like you do?”
“Like the way you always ‘forget’ your purse?”
With that, the woman rose in a huff and stomped out the door and within the beat of a heart, the waitress was beside the table, “More coffee, honey?”
“Sure darling, fill ‘er up,” he said.
51 thoughts on “Did She Just Call You Honey?”
Oops…I meant perfik.
Perfek….and love the comments.
Terms of endearment are the southern way. Darlin’ and Sugar are just the way it is and I’ve grown to love it. Often older blacks, especially in the country, will call you “baby.” After a time you grow so used to these small affections that when you go up north, people seem cold and abrupt. It’s all what you’re used to, I guess. Another lovely thing is the way the true southerner will say “Ma’am?” instead of “huh?” when he hasn’t heard you. These little things soften the stresses of daily life.
Frances Fukuyama has a term for this. He calls it social capital and it takes generations to build. The reason why I try to avoid using foul language in my humor is that it is too high of a price to pay for a laugh.
I admire that viewpoint and commitment tremendously, Greg. No need to add to the coarsening of our society by foul language which is, in fact, completely unnecessary. The most scathing insults and observations can be achieved without cursing, i.e. Wodehouse, Churchill, Wilde, all masters of the English language. Foul language is the lazy way out, IMHO.
I am fascinated by this concept of social capital and will be investigating a bit more. Thank you.
I worked in law enforcement for three decades though never a cop. Police rosters are divided into two groups: sworn and sworn at. 🙂
Interestingly, the most effective cops I know, are ones who never swear and are scrupulously polite to everyone they meet – even people who are by every definition of the word – evil.
I agree and disagree, Barbara. One of the too-many posts I may never get around to writing.
You know I always value your opinion, dear O. Babe, whether agreeing or not. Vive la difference.
Thank you, Barbara. I realize that, by supporting that ugliness of foul language, I do not choose one of the sturdiest soapboxes of the many in that teetering tower I rockily ascend at the imagined drop of a ding-danged pin.
Mmmmmwah! Another reason I adore you so – nothing on this earth more boring than a flat liner-possessed of no opinions or points of view. Ascend away, it makes for an infinitely more interesting blogosphere.
Ye-es… But there are all those rifles at the ready 😳.
(Thank you, of course! Hope you’re gonna blog about your trip!)
I might if I can figure out a way to not make it any more horrifically dull than my usual post. COL!!!
Oh, dear: Am I going to have to get on your case, too, as well as Almost’s, for false modesty? Or can you truly think there is ANYthing dull about your writing or posts?! (Permanent browlift accomplished thx to major eyeroll–Thanks for that, Barbara!)
COL!!! If you only knew the ritual self-flogging that goes on over here as I agonize over hitting that publish button.
I was so crippled by self-doubt on one post I didn’t post it, though already finished, for two weeks. I get it. We am dumb. But you, being more consistent and skilled, am dumber–Nyeah, nyeah! 😛
COL!! Publish it now. Just do it.
I wasn’t clear–this was a past post: One of the Luck Magnet ones, I think. I finally ran it by Joey, A. (no, not that A.–the other one), and my sister. And it WASN’T ready!! To have my self-doubts confirmed! I was pretty shaken. But I learned to plow ahead, and to read longer posts aloud to an imaginary critic, to see how dull they seem. I should record them, huh?
Very good. I enjoyed it, I visualized every moment, to the point of almost assigning tonal quality to the voices, and was never pulled away by any out-of-place word of dialect or background detail.
Some stories are gifts. They tell themselves.
Just awakened here (no farmer’s hours–almost 7:00am). On my back in bed reading your response. Came THAT close to dying from a Near Aspiration Event.
You, sir, are a truly gifted–nay, a great–writer.
The acting? Could use a little work. But I like that you’re trying keep your smart, talented head a regular hat size 🙂 .
Is that when coffee blows out of your nose? I get a lot of them.
Nice try, bub. Your posts make me laugh (where intended, yet!). Your *modesty* causes an eruption of another sort. Practice, man. Hone your aw-shucks ducks, and save this poor woman’s esophagus from further upslaughts. 😉
This reminds me of a scene from Five Easy Pieces: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wtfNE4z6a8
I remember that well.
My wife waited tables when we were first married…it not only made me appreciate big tippers, but turned me into one.
I don’t tip that much anymore. Now that I’m retired, I pass the bill to someone who’s working, usually my kids 🙂
I “made” my husband pay when I got a new (used) camera yesterday. Not quite the same as “forgetting my purse,” but…
When we were both working, we had individual and joint accounts. Now that I am retired and my wife is out-of-work, we only use the joint account – but we get a kick out of arguing who will pay for things.
You two sound like you have a lot of fun.
She has all the fun, I just try to keep up. 🙂
This piece crackles with tension.
And yes, of course waitresses flirt to get tips! Waiters flirt with women to get tips, too!
HEY,THAT’S DIFFERENT!! [snarf]
It was the “yes ma’am” I could never get used to
Now that my hair is (recently) turning gray, I get a kick out of saying “yes ma’am” to young waitresses and clerks. It baffles them. 🙂
loved it. left a comment. sd
Funny story! It’s true. Women talk like that in the South. Men call women Ms. – -.
I appreciate the easy going affection to strangers that you encounter in the south.
I love your writing Honey! LOL!!!!!
Loved it, but that made me hurt a little.
Waffle Houses do that to me too. You meet a lot of friendly people there – who have lived some hard lives.
Great job and very well written.
“Perhaps her thinness had something to do with her attitude, it put her nerves too close to the surface.”
Terrific descriptive narration of a personality.
Thanks Matt, glad you stopped by. I visited your blog and was impressed. I will spend some time there later.
Love this: “her thinness had something to do with her attitude, it put her nerves too close to the surface.” This piece is good. Very good. Great capture of a true story, or at least a true story theme. Leaves me laughing and squirming at the same time. Well done.
It should leave you laughing and squirming, Maggie, it’s not only the battle of the sexes but a bonifide clash of cultures to boot.
A cameo of life – the battle of the sexes.
I don’t know if you have traveled to the states, Mike, but the moment you cross south over the Mason-Dixon Line, the first thing you will see is a Waffle House. It’s pure southern blue-collar culture at it’s best. Their pecan-waffles are to die for.
I must admit I’ve never been to the States and never had a waffle before…the wife tells me I do a lot of waffling though!
I get the same from my Mrs. 🙂
Forget about their waffles–their GRITS! Oh, sweet mother of …
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