I am not your “dear.” I only see you on those rare occasions that your work schedule and my visits to this particular Starbucks (which is neither of my usual ones) coincide. It’s bad enough that you ask for my first name* just for the privilege of getting my overpriced coffee, but this level of familiarity is completely unacceptable.
The only service people who get to call me “dear,” or “hon,” or any other cutesy honorific, are either a) the barista at the Starbucks I do go to most of the time with whom I actually have real conversations occasionally or b) waitresses at greasy spoon diners in the South, preferably if they are older than me, and that simply because it is more or less traditional.
I bet you would be seriously displeased if I called you “sweetie.”
A disgruntled customer.
*And don’t think I have not thought of giving “Ms. Greene” as my name for that.