The other day I was at one of my wholesale nursery suppliers buying plants for a big job I was doing in Frisco. It was crazy hot in the Texas sun, but armed with 100 SPF and a wide brimmed hat, I was systematically plowing through the greenhouses and the expansive lot with a long list of plants I needed. I was being helped by a great guy who works there whom I’ll call “Danny”.
“Danny” is about 27, a tall, good looking, totally ripped cowboy who grew up on a ranch in West Texas riding bulls, branding cows, pitching hay and doing all the things badass cowboys do. Every single answer he gave me was punctuated with either, “Yes Ma’am” or “No Ma’am”. Finally I said, “Seriously, you don’t have to call me Ma’am every time. Or really…. ever.”
“Sorry, Ma’am” he replied.
“You just can’t help yourself can you?”
Moving on, we walked through rows and rows of trees, looking for the perfect Japanese maple when I glanced over at Danny and saw there was a little spider crawling up his neck.
“Be still,” I said, “There’s a spider on you”, as I reached over to brush it off.
Danny blanched. He began to flail.
“BE STILL,” I said, “I’ve got it!”
Danny was trying to be cool, but was totally freaking out.
I swept the offending arachnid off his neck and repositioned it on a nearby tree branch while Danny hyperventilated.
“Thanks, Ma’am. Spiders freak me out.”
“No problem, Honey. I’ve gotcha covered. And you don’t need to call me Ma’am.”