Enough, Guys!

by Paul Hein

I'm going to take a few minutes out from saving the world (not a difficult task, actually, if you've been raised with the Ten Commandments and some common sense) and deal with a problem of lesser import: guys. 

No, not members of the male gender. People, everybody, men and women, as in, "How're you guys doing?" from your waitress. 

It's not a new phenomenon, so I'm not sure why it's become so annoying recently. Maybe it has to do with my reaching retirement age and having it forced upon my consciousness that I am an--ugh--senior citizen. ("Guys" suggests youth, at least to me.) Or maybe, like a dripping spigot, it finally got to me. Anyway, I find myself reminiscing a lot about the old days, when nobody but your peers in school ever referred to anyone as "guys."

Every Sunday we went out to dinner when I was a kid. One of my parents' favorite restaurants was in South St. Louis, where the waiters wore black suits--I don't remember if they were actually tuxedos--and carried towels over their arms. (I don't know what they did with those towels, but they might have come in handy if someone spilled something.) Of course, to me, as a grade-schooler, those waiters seemed awfully old and dignified, and they never referred to anyone as "guys."

We ate at other restaurants where the waiters were waitresses, but they didn't call us "guys" either.

In recent years, however, waiters and waitresses have given way to "servers," attired in almost anything, including jeans and t-shirts. And they call us "guys." 

The other day at lunch, with another couple, I was just about to ask our perky, friendly, bubbly waitress just how old we would have to be (the other couple were seniors, too) before we ceased being "guys," when, to my surprised delight, the other fellow brought it up (so I'm not the only one). He asked the waitress, in a most friendly manner, why she thought we were "guys," especially since half of us were females.

She was obviously flustered, but promised most sincerely not to do it again, and she didn't--until the next time she passed our table to enquire, "Are you guys doing OK?" There wasn't a malicious bone in her body, I'm sure; nor a functioning neuron in her memory circuits. To her, all customers, perhaps all human beings, were "guys." 

It's not as though the term is necessary. It could simply be eliminated. "How are you doing?" functions perfectly well without the "guys." 
Our society seems to be obsessed with being non-stuffy, which is fine by me. However, the line has been drawn way too far toward informality. I don't know about you guys, but I'm tired of it. 

April 10, 2002