Ma’am Territory

Apparently I’ve crossed over into it.

I don’t know when I crossed the line into ma’am territory. I wish I had known so I could have commemorated it. Today, I was called ma’am, so I guess we have reached that land, and I might as well put up camp and embrace it.

I was on the phone today when the person on the other side said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Yes, ma’am? When did this happen? I’m aware I look younger than my age, but maybe my voice secretly sounds like an older woman’s. Should I survey people to find out if this is true?

I responded to the individual, “Ma’am? Oh, c’mon, I can’t be a ma’am; I’m (insert your favorite non-ma’am age here). You have to be in your mid-forties at least to be called ma’am, right?” The woman responded, laughing that she was the same age as me.

And then, for whatever reason, I decided that older people, i.e., people of ma’am age, must speak in a Southern accent, so I adopted that. This was not a conscious thought pattern; it just happened.

Note: as can probably be surmised, I don’t naturally have a Southern accent. I have never lived south of Maryland.

So I continued my conversation with this woman who was just trying to be polite: “Why okay then, ma’am, I do reckon that this is the part of the conversation where I must ask for your phone number so I can get back to you on your query. I don’t know whether it will be by phone or by Western Union telegram, but I surely will respond.”