"Hon" is a ubiquitous endearment in the greater Baltimore Metro area, so I take no offense if a perfect stranger, or perfectly strange acquaintance, dubs me such. Well, OK, I raise an eyebrow if the person doling out the "Hon" is a 16-year-old Denny's waitress. Still, though, it doesn't prickle.
But "Honey" and it's ilk ("Sweetie," "Sugar," "Pumpkin") are a different matter entirely. These nicknames are strictly limited to family and friends. Which means that the next time the guy behind the counter at the bakery calls me Sweetie, I may have to go all Julia Sugarbaker on him.
I refuse to appreciate the coincidence that the Sweetie-man is the cash register jockey at a bakery. Where I buy brownies. So there.