Excuse me maam: garden party edition

You might not know this about me, but I get called Ma’am or Miss a lot.

Like on the people yelling “Beam me up, Scotty” at William Shatner level. Okay, maybe it isn’t quite on that level but enough to stand out and enough to deserve its own segment here. Back when I had long hair and painted my nails, at least it sorta made sense. Only a little though because, hello, full beard. Half of these “mistakes” would happen while the person was looking at my face or at least the side.

And that’s why:

excuse me miss

It had been a while since this happened last. Where was the crime committed? In my very own backyard. I’ll set the scene.

Daytime.
In our backyard.
The neighbors had some people working on their landscaping.

I was minding my own business and taking some trash out to the garage. As I did this, I turned toward their yard and made eye contact with two (TWO!) of the workers. We held the gaze for probably too long, and I nodded at them before going on my way. I continued on my way and as I entered (bow chikka bow wow…sorry) the garage I hear:

“Ma’am?”

(Silence)

“Miss?”

(That’s weird why don’t they know Chris’s name if they work for her. I’m trying to clean up the garage a bit.)

“Hey MA’AM!”

(Are they calling me? Nooo, they couldn’t be.)

“Ma’am?”

(Could they?)

“Hello…Ma’am?”

(I stick my head out of the garage.)

“Oh…OH! Sorry…”

They then asked if they could take some of the trees from her yard out through ours. I say yes, and of course later find they stomped some of our plants.

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