I grew up on the Maryland side of the river, where “sir” was very much a part of the conversation, “ma’am,” though, not so much. When I was quite little I had some teachers who expected it, but “sir,” that one, we never outgrew. It was polite speech on up to putting the guy on a pedestal, depending on the tone of voice and the context, but it was always positive.
Here in California my car was once hit by a guy who seemed to have had a few, and when I tried to exchange insurance information with him, he at one point bellowed, “Stop calling me SIR!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m a Southerner.” (Oh, bright move, Alison, call him sir while apologizing for calling him sir. And I don’t really think of myself as a Southerner, although I’m from south of the Mason-Dixon line, but it was the best fast explanation.) Apparently he thought I was calling him a doddering old fool. Um… I thought I was doing the opposite, even if he didn’t deserve it.
It hit me after that friend and I chatted that I’d called that eye doctor “sir” in my post earlier in the day, and I’m sure he didn’t mind one bit if he read it, but I’m laughing at myself for missing the potential cultural difference. Hon, I ain’t sassin’ nobody. He earned that honorific.