Sweetie.

There are plenty of times I like to hear that term of endearment. Like on Doctor Who. Because it means that River Song is lurking about, and I do love River.

Or when my mom’s reassuring me. That’s a sweetie that I love.

I don’t love it when men use it to patronize me.

Today I stopped in at Home Depot, fulfilling an agreement I’d made with TheBoy yesterday. I got to take a nap yesterday afternoon, so I tackled the errand he’d planned on running during that time- buying what we needed to rig up the pinata.

I admit, I’m dressed a little young today. I grabbed some black & white striped tights, a miniskirt and a black top, and called it a day. And I look a little young every day as it is. I don’t know my way around our local Home Depot, but I’ve spent enough time in home improvement stores over the years that I knew what aisles to look for. So I wasn’t going to ask for help, since I wanted to get a feel for the store, too.

And I rocked it. In fifteen minutes, I walked in the door, found what I needed, paid for it and walked back to my car. I was also asked by three separate employees if I needed help. Each of these men called me sweetie.

I wasn’t hearing things. These men weren’t being polite. They looked at little ol’ me and assumed that because I’m petite and wearing a mini-skirt, I had no idea what I was doing, even though I assured them I didn’t need help. And felt like calling me sweetie would somehow make the situation better.

By the time the last man asked me if I needed help choosing rope (when they have helpful little cards to explain the weight each type can carry), I lost it. I should have asked to talk to a manager, but I felt like just getting out of there.

So I told him this: “Excuse me? I’ve been going to home improvement stores since I was 7. My dad taught me how to use power tools when I was 10. I crewed about a dozen shows, working on set construction. I think I can pick out the rope and pully I need without help. Thanks.” And I grabbed my rope and pully and headed out towards the self-checkout.

I might be 5’2″ and a 95 lb weakling- but I know what I’m doing. Don’t assume that someone does or doesn’t need help. I don’t mind being asked- I do mind being asked after I’ve said no, because you think that I couldn’t possibly have a grasp on something like home improvement. Ugh.

At least they didn’t try it on River Song. I’d imagine they’d have been vaporized for being so ridiculous.

Day 5 of NaBloPoMo