We are often addressed as “You guys” by chirpy young folks in service occupations. When I feel extra-curmudgeonly, I will stiffly inform these nice people that I am a woman, and no “guy”, thus earning a full dose of that whipped-puppy expression that I have learned to dread, for it means : “You are unhappy with me already and I don’t know *why*!”

Of course, my curmudgeonlyness just multiplies.