Yesterday, I was sitting in a restaurant waiting for my son to meet me.  Sylvia had a meeting of mentors for students in a nearby school.  I had driven past my son’s business, but didn’t see his auto there.  For that reason, I was surprised when I didn’t see his car in the parking lot.  Fifteen minutes later, I ordered a cup of coffee.  Fifteen minutes after that, I ordered lunch.

While I was waiting for my son, he was two miles away, waiting for me to show at a different restaurant.  He called the house to see if I had forgotten him.  I had forgotten to tell Sylvia where I thought we were meeting.  She answered the phone and could provide no information beyond, “He’s not here.”

To protect the guilty, I’ll provide no further info here. 😳   Hey look a squirrel. 😀

The waitress was a gal I’ve seen many times before.  I’ve given her the secret nickname “Sheor.”  It has more to do with her voice than anything else.  She is a pleasant person and goes about her work as you’d want a waitress to do.

Several times she referred to me as, “my dear.”  Frankly, I don’t like that.  Call it a pet peeve if you want.  If we were fellow workers, that kind of talk could be deemed sexual harassment.  It wasn’t meant that way, and it wasn’t taken that way.  Nevertheless, I don’t care for that kind of familiarity in that situation.

Does that ever happen to you?  What, if anything, do you do about it?