Simply servers

I hate it when waitresses call me by name.

I mean, I know they’ve just read it off my credit card. But hearing it uttered in a cute yet professional voice doesn’t cause me to empty my pockets onto the table, leaving an epic tip. If anything, it just leaves me paranoid.

Do I need to cancel this card?

Being called “buddy,” “dude” or “champ” doesn’t do anything for me either. I’m none of those.

I’m a skinny English major who’s more than 6 feet tall and has stayed the same weight since eighth grade. I’m already insecure about my inability to grow facial hair. A pet name just reminds me of my inescapable youth.

Spare me.

In fact, the only thing I want to be called by anyone who brings me food, fills my glass, takes my money, handles my tickets or serves up my strawberry frappuccino is “sir.” It keeps the distance between us. It reminds us that our time together is purely for business.

Because, let’s face it, being my barista doesn’t make you my friend.
If you somehow found me on Facebook and requested me online, I wouldn’t accept. Or would I?

I mean, the word “friend” doesn’t mean that much anymore. Exclusivity or time-tested camaraderie is no longer implied. Proximity is enough. Sure, I saw you that one time at the one place. We’ve been there a couple times since. Why not?

Friendship seems to be all about collection. Well-connected people are those who are good at creating numerous contacts and generating lots of content (twittering constantly or updating their status every 20 minutes) to keep everyone interested. We’ve all met them. They’re all nauseating. And if there’s anything I hate more than being called a pet name, it’s being advertised to under the guise of friendship.

Or, as they like to call it at Kelley: networking.

It happens explicitly, in the open, without reservation or the least bit of shame. Grill a steak, expect a check – a weekend at the lake bringing a new contract. At least in the olden days we had to marry off our prettiest daughter to seal the deal. That was commitment.

But maybe there’s some hope.

A recent study by Facebook’s in-house sociologist shows that the average male with 500 online friends regularly communicates with only 17 of them. His female counterpart will keep in touch with 26.

What does this mean? In spite of the pressure to expand and dilute our circle of friends, we’re still trying to maintain intimacy. We understand that though some friends are consistent, most aren’t. Some friends are just for a semester. Others just for a summer.

While we should try to be friendly, we don’t always need to forge new, deeper relationships. Nor should we try to transparently disguise business interactions as personal relationships.

Not all friendships need to be forever. And not everyone needs to be a friend.

Some are simply servers.