Category Archives: Snotty Comments on NYC Signs

Mocking double meanings and pretentious language on street signs and ads

Punctuation Puzzles

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I live in New York City, so irony is my default tone. Thus I’m fairly sympathetic to “scare quotes,” the print version of “air quotes” — punctuation that writers insert to distance themselves from whatever’s inside the quotation marks. The problem is that sometimes readers can’t tell whether the quotation marks indicate a definition (as they do above), an exact rendition of someone else’s words, or an eyeroll. Take this sign, for example:

I’m not sure why NO appears inside quotation marks. If these are scare quotes, the signwriter is saying, “Cyclists, you are not supposed to park here, but [wink wink] you will anyway and I won’t stop you.” It’s also possible that the signwriter may be quoting someone: “Don’t blame me! The owner said NO.” Putting aside the punctuation issue for a moment, I still don’t grasp the intended meaning. Is the sign protecting cyclists (“There’s a HAZARD here for you!”)? Is it trying to safeguard pedestrians, who may trip over a parked bike? Keeping cars and bikes separate? Inviting cyclists to leave their bikes because there’s NO PARKING HAZARD? I can only speculate.

Nor can I determine the function of the quotation marks in this photo, sent by my friend Ellie:

Frankly, I have no idea why quotation marks appear in this sign. Nor do I know why there is an ellipsis (three dots) after flowers. Unfinished thought? An attempt to create suspense? I’d take a scalpel to this sign, excising two dots, both quotation marks, and one exclamation point. Then I’d use the scalpel to cut myself some flowers.

Another sign suffering from excess punctuation:

Here’s what I know for sure: the restaurant needs HELP in the KITCHEN. It also needs HELP in signwriting. The business is seeking a COOK and . . . well, I’m not sure who else. There may be two spots open, one for a DISHWASHER and another for a DELIVERY person. The forward slash in DISHWASHER/DELIVERY implies that one employee is supposed to wash a few pots and then dash out with a DELIVERY. Three exclamation points convey desperation, though perhaps not enough to raise the salary being offered to a potential COOK, DISHWASHER and DELIVERY person. PETER, if you see this post, please clarify. Readers’ theories also welcome!

Pondering Punctuation

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Can we agree to give up on apostrophes? All together now: pry the key off the computer, excise the concept from your brain, and resolve not to write anything with a curved mark hanging next to a letter. Can you feel the relief? Never again will you have to critique a sign like this one:

This is not my dentist, but if I were in search of a new one, I would not rule out this fellow because the plurals are (gasp) written with apostrophes. Inserting punctuation is not the same as filling a tooth. Besides, apostrophe-less words are perfectly clear, most of the time. Take a look at this helpful sign from a clothing store:

On reflection, not very helpful. The sign is on the ground floor, surrounded by racks and tables displaying tee shirts and shorts for nonhuman life-forms (I can only assume, since the sign indicates that women’s, men’s, kids, and a single, solitary baby are accommodated downstairs). Back to my apostrophe point: If women’s were womens and men’s were mens, would shoppers be any more confused? I do admit that the lack of consistency is problematic. Anti-apostrophists like me could delete two bits of punctuation, and pro-apostrophists could add them. Both groups could pluralize the youngest age group.

This sign is also confusing, not just because of its punctuation:

I can ignore the PUSH / DO NOT PUSH issue, because (a) there’s a pandemic and (b) removing a decal from glass is not fun. What I can’t ignore is the !!! in the middle of a sentence. An exclamation mark is an end point. You get there and you’re done, unless you’re Panic! At The Disco, a band with an internal exclamation point that, perhaps not coincidentally, broke up a few years ago. Also, no one needs three exclamation points, especially now. We’ve had enough excitement for this millennium, thank you very much. Revised, much improved versions: Please DO NOT PUSH THE DOOR! or Please, do not push the door.

Perhaps the previous sign could send two of its exclamation points to the one below, sent by my friend Sean:

I would feel much more comfortable with an exclamation point after hunting. Even two. Much safer for everyone. Speaking of safe: please stay that way. Covid is still out there!

Signs of Covid, Part 2

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As the pandemic grinds on, it’s increasingly tough to answer simple questions like who? what? and where? — questions these signs unsuccessfully attempt to answer. Take a look at this sign, which was posted in the window of a math-enrichment center:

Where are the instructors, exactly? In your home? I guess you should be glad that your home provides comfort, and you should be REALLY glad that they’re live. The last thing you need is a deceased teacher in your living room.

Then there’s this one:

I wouldn’t mind a Manicure & Pedicure, but HOME CALL makes me think of ET, as in ET phone home. Yeah, I know, I’m being pickier than usual. Maybe I should be pleased that the nail-tender understands that we all need comfort these days. A home call is comfier than a house call.

I don’t think it’s picky to question this sign, though:

Are we talking actual food or virtual? Until yesterday I would have thought that actual was the only possible answer. Then someone paid almost seventy million dollars for “Everydays: The First 5000 Days,” a “nonfungible token” (NFT), which is an artwork existing only on a computer. Until the computer crashes during the next update, that is. Then it exists as a hole in your bank account, though as I understand it, the payment was in virtual currency, so nothing real was paid for nothing real. I should find the symmetry comforting, but somehow I don’t. Back to the sign: I hope they collected cans of tuna and whatnot in a physical pantry, because real people can’t eat icons from a pantry file.

In closing, this grammarian in the city offers one NFT of her own: a wish, existing here on my computer and speeding wirelessly to yours, that you stay safe and well.

Signs of Covid, Part 1

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A year in, it’s become clear that symptoms of Covid-19 include well intentioned but poorly executed signs. I have collected quite a few, so I’ll spread them over a couple of posts. The first one is a bit late, but I’ll post it anyway because Valentine’s Day should last as long as possible this year, which has been sorely in need of good feeling:

Here’s another emotion-packed message, not quite as upbeat as the previous:

This was on the window of a doctor’s office. I was tempted to call to say that I’d agree to STOP!!!! if the doctor would agree to drop three of the exclamation points. Well, four, because the one after NAME isn’t necessary. Maybe it can be recycled into an apostrophe for CANT?

The previous sign is a little rude, but at least it asks you to control yourself, not others, as this one does:

I have great sympathy for the struggling restaurant industry, but I don’t see myself (or any diner, in fact) pushing people apart who venture too close to each other. It’s my responsibility to MAINTAIN A DISTANCE OF 6FT from OTHER GUESTS, not BETWEEN. Nor should this responsiblity fall to the waiters. Diners, you know the rules. Please follow them. Or, as the person who fashioned the second sign in this post would put it, BEHAVE!!!!

For the Birds

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Although a number of pet birds have flown around my living room through the years, I tend to divide avian wildlife in New York City into two categories, as this sign does:

Why single out pigeons? Here’s my theory: if you have one or two pigeons, they’re beautiful — a feathered palette of grays and whites with touches of black. But that’s never what you actually have. You have a flock, a megaflock, many megaflocks! You have a pigeony exponential growth-curve akin to the one Covid-19 has, unfortunately, made us all too familiar with.

Pigeons also make an appearance in this sign, which a reader spotted in a park:

The reader remarked that she “would have thought NYC already had plenty of these without anyone having to breed more.” I join her in rejecting this imperative sentence.

Still another pigeon, because, as I said, you really can’t have just one:

You can read this sign two ways. (1) You’re not required to feed a pigeon and clean-up, but doing so would be nice. (2) You’re not supposed to feed the pigeon, but you’re going to do it anyway, so could you please remove the inevitable end product? It’s the law. Which surprises me. I know there are all sorts of laws about snow removal — how much time may elapse after the last flake falls before you must shovel a path for pedestrians, for example. Is there also a time limit on poop? Do you have to sit around staring at the pigeon you’ve just (illegally) fed, so you can scoop the end product? Asking for a friend.

That’s it for pigeons, you’ll be glad to know. But not for birds. Below is one of the first signs I spotted when I started this blog:

Then, as now, I smiled to think of how you would sit . . . birds. Bend their little legs? Offer a chair? I’ll leave you with that image, hoping it cheers you, and any pigeons you’ve befriended.

Packages

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A side effect of the pandemic is the flood of deliveries pouring into our homes — that is, pouring into our homes IF the package-deliverer figures out how to get them there. It’s not enough that these essential and surely underpaid workers have to deal with Covid while lifting heavy stuff. They also have to decipher signs like this one:

Why the quotation marks? Is it “we call it ‘door bell’ but it’s really an ejection button” or “that guy calls himself ‘Door Bell‘ because his real name is Mgkysdn”? Maybe door bell is meant to be a verb, what any package is supposed to do. I’m going with the last interpretation because picturing a package in the act of door-belling makes me smile.

Here’s another sign giving life to packages:

I removed the address to avoid embarrassing the sign-writer, who appears to think that packages will be eager to elope with the doorman.

Not every sign is bad:

I’m all for anything done graciously, a quality in short supply these days. And the fate of deliveries . . . graciously received appeals. It’s bound to be better than packages treated as this sign requests:

I hope no one’s in that yard, ever. Head bonks hurt! Plus, you end up writing a sign like this one:

Final thought for today: Wherever you or your packages land, I hope you’re safe and well.

How Do I Look?

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I’ve been Zooming around a lot lately. I’ve had virtual dinners with friends, virtual classes (on both sides of the virtual desk), virtual doctor visits, and some virtual interviews about my new book. (Yes, this is a shameless plug for 25 Great Sentences and How They Got That Way, which debuted this week.) What I haven’t had is the ability to ignore my appearance while Zooming. I suspect I’m not alone. In fact, I bet the first humans fretted over their skin and hair whenever they knelt to drink from a pond.

These New York City signs, snapped pre-pandemic, indicate a whole new level of obsession. First up, skin:

I admit that German Black Forest sounds authoritative, though why those ingredients should surpass, say, the Appalachians I could not explain. And what has to happen for something to be wild crafted? Is a deer or a bear involved? A squirrel? For me, the words that tip this sign into lunacy are the last three. Does anyone create a system designed not to work?

A little more skin:

Given the lack of hyphens, this shop may be offering a consultation about the camera you use to check your scalp. Or, the store may have its own special scalp camera. Either way: eww. Why would you want to stare at follicles and record the experience for posterity?

Now, hair. Here’s a message I agree with:

Keep each tress to yourself, please! It should be easy to avoid passing one, if you’re Zooming. Not so easy, but much more important: stay safe!

On Location

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Perhaps as a consequence of being cooped in, I’ve found myself thinking about the importance of location. An example:

I snapped this photo during a pre-pandemic shopping trip to a department store. The store was in North America, and the escalator next to this sign was in limbo, or maybe the repair shop. Either way, an elevator in CHINA was not in any way a convenience.

Moving on to another sort of location:

Et tu, New York Times? I thought I could count on my hometown newspaper to place descriptions in the proper location. I don’t know much about history or mathematical predictions, but I do know that the modifier that was used for D-Day should appear after method.

Another location problem, courtesy of my friend Ellie:

I can only conclude that whoever wrote this sign has really, really long arms.

Last one:

Say you’re driving a taxi. What happens after 46th Street? Does your passenger — or your car — go directly to jail without passing Go and collecting $200? Turn into a pumpkin? And what happens if you’re driving a couple or a group? Can your vehicle legally remain in bus lanes after 46 St?

This signs may be confusing, but one thing could not be clearer: the correct location in 2020 is socially distant. Stay safe and well!

The Pandemic in Signs

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Most of the signs I glimpse in NYC these days are too sad to post. The hopeful “reopening March 20th” placards depress me now, in mid-May, because the shops they’re tacked on remain closed, some perhaps permanently. Nor do I like reading “closed until further notice” notices. I know that already. I just don’t know much further the “further” will be.

So I’m relying on my archives to map my pandemic experience. First, what I began to hear (but not really absorb) in late January:

Diagnosing the path ahead.

Soon I realized the trajectory life was taking:

Lots of do-It-yourself and a fair amount of storage (including toilet paper). Much moving away from the city, but not — and never — for me.

Instructions and predictions from authorities resembled, and continue to resemble, this:

and this:

There is no silver lining to this pandemic, but it has made me understand how, in these tough times, and also in good times,

What’s inside? If you’re fortunate, love and resilience.

Take care of yourself, take care of others, and stay safe.

Repurposing, Part 2

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This post is entitled “Repurposing” because I’ve dug up some photos I posted a long time ago and added Covid-pertinent commentary. (It’s “Part 2” because I did the same thing last week.) Before I begin, though, I offer sincere gratitude to the heroes who leave home each day to tend to the sick, staff the markets, deliver the packages, and keep the city running.

Now, to those of us who have the privilege of protecting ourselves by sheltering in place: How many weeks has it been? I’ve lost count, which is why it’s been long enough to need this:

Check all that apply: (a) grumpy (b) annoyed (c) exasperated (d) nuclear meltdown imminent

Self-checked? Now select a remedy. For the grumpy:

Caution: Avoid serving to significant others. May be habit-forming.

Annoyed at your isolate-mates? Try this:

A little blurry — like most of us these days.

No matter how much your offspring are getting on your nerves, don’t give in to this:

Unless of course the arrow points to “silent treatment rooms.”

As for me, I’m grateful to be safe and fervently hoping you are safe as well.