It was a raining when two women, both in their mid-40s, one blonde, one brunette, walked into a Bethesda Starbucks. As they approached the counter, a barista called out pleasantly: “Good afternoon. What can I get for you girls?” At the word “girls,” the dark haired woman bridled, actually stopping in her tracks at the affront.
I am not a girl, she thought irritably. It’s been 30 years since I was a girl. Don’t you “girl” me, mister.
The light-haired woman gave the fellow a happy smile. She could see her friend’s annoyance but did not share it. Actually, she appreciated having her femininity noticed by a young man. There had been nothing ironic in his tone, she thought.
“OK, I really don’t like –” the first woman began, as, at the same moment, the second said, “Thank you, I find that quite –”
“Insulting,” finished the brunette.
“Flattering!” corrected the blonde.
The two women looked at each other and laughed. They had been close friends for years, although they didn’t share the same religion, the same political orientation, nor, it seemed, the same susceptibility to the blandishments of latte-makers.
“Wow,” said the barista.
“OK, that was just perfect,” said the blonde. She turned to the young man. “We’ve just been talking about the radically different ways that two people can interpret the same remark, or the same event. You have proved the point entirely.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a grin.
The brunette explained: “The way I see it, calling a woman my age a ‘girl’ is sexist and condescending. Plus, it makes me feel old because it’s obvious that I am not a girl.”
“I like the implication that there’s still something girly about me, despite my antiquity,” said the blonde.
“How about being called ‘ladies?'” asked the young man, as he prepared their drinks.
Both women made faces of distaste. The brunette said: “I once heard a comedian say that you can make anything sound smarmy if you put ‘ladies’ at the end.”
“It’s true!”
” Do you want fries with that … ladies?”
The barista spoke up. “OK, you don’t like ‘ladies’ and you might think ‘girls’ is sexist, but I think calling women ‘guys’ is worse. You know, can I get you ‘guys’ something? You may not be girls, but you’re definitely not guys.”
“Quite,” said the blonde.
“When I was growing up my father used to call women ‘girls’ and it drove me crazy,” said the brunette. “A grown woman is no more a girl than a grown man is a boy. Can you imagine calling a middle-aged man, ‘boy?'”
All three shook their heads, thinking the same thing.
“Eventually I told my father that every time he used the term I would tell him some excruciating detail about female hygiene.”
“Ugh!” said the blonde, reeling back.
“Exactly!” said the brunette. “It did the trick, too.”
“Don’t do that here,” the blonde said quickly.
“Yeah,” said the barista.
The brunette grinned. “Don’t worry.”
Soon the women had their drinks in hand, and, turning to leave, called out: “Goodbye, charming young man!”
“Bye!” he returned. “Nice meeting you guys — girls – I mean, ladies!”
Everyone laughed, and the women went back out into the rain.
Meghan Cox Gurdon’s column appears on Sunday and Thursday. She can be contacted at [email protected].
