I’m in a funk tonight so I’m just going to get it all out of my system.  Here’s another pet peeve.

Let’s say Al and I go out to dinner, I am dressed up a bit, nothing too fancy, but fresh makeup, nice earrings, a pretty blouse, a decent pair of pants, and something on my feet other than my athletic shoes.  Al looks pretty sharp as well, but that’s beside the point.  Here’s what I hear from the waiter:

“How are you guys doing this evening?”   I must really getting old because that irks me no end.  I am not a guy.  And when I am out to dinner with my husband I am definitely not a guy and he is really not a “guy” either.  This drives me even crazier when I am out with a girlfriend.  Do we really look like a couple of guys?  I have not said anything, but I’m getting closer all the time.  I just have to get into that space where I put on my old lady voice and smile and say, “dear, I really don’t like to be addressed as a guy.”  I am such a wuss.  I can’t believe I haven’t stood up for common courtesy from these young pups as yet.  I guess it’s because I am empathetic and don’t want to embarrass them or ruin their evening.  I know waiting tables is a very difficult job.  I kinda worry too about having something icky done to my meal.  Maybe I should just wait until it’s time to pay the bill and mention it discreetly.  Am I wrong here?  I await feedback on this one, folks.