A woman loves it when her man takes up for her — at least this woman does! I took my sweetie out to eat on his birthday — a special treat as we rarely eat in restaurants (too health-conscious). So with great expectations of a pleasant, quiet evening, we went to the new steakhouse in town and even on Wednesday night, it was very busy.
The first thing we noticed was the noise. The hostess, in a very penetrating, high-pitched voice with a Valley-Girl slant (though we live in the Deep South), welcomed us so forcefully I literally took a step backward from the onslaught! Ouch! My husband and I chuckled at the interchange as she seated us at a table. It should have prepared us for what was to happen next — but it didn’t.
“Hello! I’ll be with you guys in just a minute! Here’s a menu for you guys to be looking at!”
Another Valley-Girl in the Deep South? You guys? Walter and I exchanged glances. We both dislike the generic “you guys” that so many people use nowadays. And we dislike the “Valley-Girl” lilt adopted by so many teens. But, we were out to enjoy ourselves so we just smiled and assured her it would be okay, shoving the offensive “you guys” into the corners of our minds.
Finally our enthusiastic waitress returns, bopping up to our table with a cellophane smile and voice to mach. “How’re you guys doing?” She asks in her high-pitched voice that sent shivers up my spine. Honestly, it was very much like a fingernail scraping a blackboard. I shuddered as she continued, “Can I get you something to drink? Oh yes, and you guys really must try out our firecracker wraps! They are so good! Or, how about a Ton-yun? You guys will love them — now, what can I do for you guys?” (I kid you not – every other word seemed to be “you guys!”)
Our eyes met again and I knew — Walter had reached his limit of “you guys” for the evening. “Well, for starters,” he said with deliberate slowness and politeness, “you may start by addressing my wife as ‘Ma’am.’ She is not a ‘guy’.” He smiled to soften the chastisement. “Then, you may kindly bring us two waters with lemon.”
“Oh I am sorry!” the young girl blushed and tripped over her apology. “I’ll get the water.” She quickly left to get our drinks.
“Oh me!” I took a deep breath. “Thank you, darling. You didn’t have to do that,” I said softly, lovingly. Rarely has anyone taken up for me and I was totally unprepared for the feeling of sheer gratitude and love that washed through me.
“Yes, I did,” Walter replied. “You are a special lady and I won’t have anyone being disrespectful to my lady.”
The young waitress? Well, she said Yes Ma’am and Yes Sir to us for the duration of the meal. We tipped her nicely and left smiling, making silent vows never again to eat at the new steakhouse. The food was good but not good enough to compel us to endure the fast, almost shrill up-talk of the Valley-Girl waitresses who are glaringly out of place among the soft, slow drawls of the South.
