Irene Smith

My husband took me and our son to Olive Garden tonight for dinner. The place was beginning to fill up with Saturday night customers so we had to add our name to the list for a table. I went up to the hostess and said to her,”I’d like a table for three.” I paused and said, “Smith.”

“Thank you. What is your first name?”

How is that relevant? I looked at the hostess as she stood, pen poised over paper, waiting for my answer. Reluctantly I said, “Irene.”

This raised a question that I’ve pondered more than once. That is:

When did we become so informal?

Once upon a time young people didn’t address those who were obviously older by their first name. I might enjoy the thought that maybe I look younger than I am, but the truth is that, when I was a little girl, people didn’t address others that they didn’t know by their first name. When you added yourself to a list at a restaurant, you gave the hostess or maitre ‘d your last name and then when it was your turn they would say, “Smith, party of three.”

This change does not just apply to restaurants. When you go to the doctor’s office these days you never hear a nurse say, “Mrs. Smith, could you come with me, please?” It’s always, “Irene,” and then they turn and walk away without saying any more. Now you’ve got to scurry after them as quickly as possible, hoping that they don’t get too far ahead for you to find them again because almost every doctor’s office is a maze of examining rooms but that’s another blog entry.

When I go to the bank, not a common occurrance since my husband usually takes care of our finances, the teller calls me Irene, when I used my credit card at WalMart, the 15-year old at the register says, “Here you go Irene,” when she hands my card back to me. I have been married to my husband for 15 years now and I can count the number of times I have been addressed as “Mrs. Smith” on the fingers of one hand.

Even in the work place, formality has gone by the wayside. I am as guilty as any of calling the CEO of the company I work for by his first name but, now that I think of it, I’m wondering if that’s the best thing for us all? Would we respect each other more if I called him Mr. Sherif and he called me Mrs. Smith?

Some people seem to feel that this informality is a good thing. “Why be so formal?” they say. “It’s so much more friendly the other way.”

At first thought, that seems to be true. However, consider your childhood. To whom were you more respectful, the teacher you had to call “Mrs. Smith” or the kid on the other side of the aisle that you called “Bobby?” I’m betting that Mrs. Smith would have won out.