A birthday lament

It's happening more and more often, and it irritates the fire out of me: sales clerks and waitstaff and cashiers, usually very young, addressing me as "Dear" and "Sweetie."   AS IF.  As if I am their grandmother.  As if I am a doddering old lady.

When they say,  "Here you go, Sweetie" or "Thanks, Dear", I give them a tight little smile, but what I REALLY want to say is, "You can call me Madame or you can call me Mrs. Dewar; you can call me Your Royal Highness, for all I care, but you call me 'Sweetie' one more time and I'll kick you in the shins. You young whippersnapper."