"Have a good day, honey."

That's what an attendant at the Exxon gas station says to me every time he fills my car. And every time he says it, it irks me.

I'm sure the young man, who looks no more than 22, means no harm, but to me, "honey" is a term of endearment meant to be used either by my husband or parents - not the random guy at the gas station.

This Exxon station is by my job. I noticed it about two months ago when I was out trolling for gas that was less than $4.45 a gallon for supreme. At the time, they were selling it for about $4.43 a gallon, so I pulled in.

The "honey guy" didn't wait on me that day, but the next time I filled up, he did the pumping. As he returned my debit card and handed me the receipt, he said, "Have a nice day, honey." I was taken aback. Should I be flattered? He was cute, after all. Or should I be offended? He didn't know me like that.

I was offended, but didn't dwell on it.

About a month passed before the "honey guy" filled up my car again, which was last week. I actually had forgotten about the incident until he said it again. "Have a nice day, honey," rolled off of his lips as easily as "hello" or "good-bye."

"OK, that's it", I thought, "The next time he fills my car and calls me 'honey,' I need to say something."

The next time was this morning.

I pulled into the station and saw him approaching my car. "If he doesn't say it, I won't say anything," I thought. But he said it.

As soon as the word "honey" left his lips, I said, "Hey, come back."

He turned around and I told him that I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it, but I'm offended when he calls me "honey."

"Just remember my face and my car and please don't call me 'honey' anymore," I instructed.

He looked a little shocked and said "OK."

I told him to have a nice day and he said the same.

Just don't call me honey!