There's this whole thing in the Globe and Mail, starting in Facts & Arguments and spilling over into Letters to the Editor, where women are angsting (or their husbands are angsting on their behalf) about the first time they were ever called Ma'am.

The first time I was ever called Ma'am was when I was 15. Get over yourselves!

Seriously though, I like Ma'am better than Miss. Miss gets carded, and gets her perfectly legal ID over-scrutinized because her hairstyle and makeup have changed slightly since she turned 16. Miss gets followed around by store employees who think she's going to steal something, and then they swoop in for the kill when she has the audacity to pick out a greeting card and carry it with her as she purchases some wrapping paper instead of promptly taking it to the cash register, because Miss OBVIOUSLY wouldn't have enough money for anything more than a simple greeting card. Miss is denied apartments unless her parents sign for her, because the fact that Miss is currently a student means she's OBVIOUSLY going to blow all her money and not make rent. Being Miss is not fun.

Ma'am, on the other hand, is treated with basic adult respect. No one questions her right to browse as she pleases, conduct business transactions, and if someone does card her the pretense is that they are terribly sorry, but Ma'am surely understands that there these bothersome card under 30 laws and we do have to go through certain motions and yes this all looks in order.

Perhaps the true sign of age is not being called Ma'am, but rather forgetting how unpleasant it is to be Miss.