In the pharmacy, everything ends with: “With love!”. At the bazaar, the saleswoman kills me, after parsley, “with love!”. Car service as before “with love!”. The courier shouts to me between two runs: “with love!”. My good friend also came with love.

Too much “expensive” can become overwhelming. Even the artificial intelligence of my bank tells me: “Dear Berchan, look at today’s exchange rate!”. This is an approach that surprises and perplexes me. How can a machine speak to me so personally? And how does she know my name, details from the bulletin? It’s like a bank teller calling me “Honey” thinking he’s connecting with me. But we are not brothers, we are not close, we are not friends, to use such an intimate word. It is important to know how we are treated and how our personal data is used.

We have to ask ourselves if we are okay with being addressed by so many “Dear” and “Dear.”

The world wants real human connections, not just standardized services. We want to feel that we are treated as people, not just customers.

Nicolae Manolescu, whom I admire, opened my eyes in college. I learned a lot from him, including how to analyze irony in Caragiale’s works. So every time I hear the word “dear,” I think about the intricacies of language and how we are treated in different contexts.

Look at the famous text from Caragiale. Someone like me comes to the clerk in the morning. He wants something too. We want something too, don’t we? And the scene begins like this:

“- I’m damn thirsty. Tonight I was out and about with my friends. I didn’t even sleep, you know… Isn’t that how you know I haven’t slept?

– Well, no.

– Where have I not been! Honey, if you don’t mind, I’d like another glass of water, please. You have a lot of work to do.

– Not too much, not much. Appropriately so.

— If you don’t mind, a handkerchief.

– Understand, sir, that the state does not pay us to speak here. We have work to do, we don’t have time to talk. tell me what you want No one comes here who doesn’t have a job.”

And the employee does not receive an answer. But inevitably the beggar says: “Honey, one more glass of water!”

And keep it up!

So every time I’m told “honey, with love, pretty, with love” I expect to be asked for another glass of water!

That is, I become a debtor! Don’t you think so too? This is an imbalance created by his excessive love!. I mean, if someone says to me, here’s a cookie, thank you very much.” It seems I remain in debt even though he provides services. Since in Caragiale they do not give me, but I remain in debt. “Honey, another glass of water!” I mean, I’m pretty, but even though I pay for the services, I’m still guilty! Down with love! Who protects me from “with love”?