Category Archives: Snotty Comments on NYC Signs

Mocking double meanings and pretentious language on street signs and ads

Hallucinations for sale

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I’ve been “collecting” signs for a while. This post is a mix of old and new sightings in the category labeled “Huh?” that I add to nearly every day.  First up is a store that specializes in hallucinations. Does the DEA know?

Top quality visions only.

Top quality visions only.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next is something my friend Michael sent me, with the email subject line “Word Crime.” Isn’t it wonderful to hydrate yourself for your entire lifetime for only $1.95? Quite a bargain.

free water

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Below is another puzzle. We buy cash in exchange for cash?  And then there are the “old boyfriends.” (Young boyfriends, I guess, don’t count.)  Also, even if you insert an apostrophe and exchange your “old boyfriend’s jewelry” (singular) or “old boyfriends’ jewelry” (plural), aren’t you stealing the old guy’s jewelry? In the face of larceny, I won’t mention the missing comma after “gold” or the period that should follow “diamonds.” Should I be surprised that the store went out of business?

Turn your cash into cash? Not to mention your old boyfriends.

Turn your cash into cash? Not to mention your old boyfriends.

 

Unwinding 5000 Games

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In the “what on earth does that mean?” category, here is the latest batch of signs  to stop me in my tracks. Once more I admit (maybe submit?) to the title “Grumpy Grammarian,” but really, what are these people trying to say?

First up is a poster in the window of a small copy shop in midtown:

Window tint print here?

Window tint print here?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After three or four visits to this block (no, I’m not that obsessive about signs, but one of my favorite bars is nearby), I finally decided that window tint print is the sort of film that sits on a window and lets some light through — enough light so that whoever buys it can claim that it doesn’t detract from the experience of, for example, a tourist peering through a shrink-wrapped  bus.  I guess imagination applies to the message on the window tint, and protection is the window tint itself. And what’s with the new? Was the old window tint inferior? Nonexistent? Feel free to come up with your own interpretation. Stop by the shop to see whether you’ve guessed correctly. (Then hit the bar across the street. It serves good beer.)

Next up is this neon sign, glowing prettily and selling — well, I don’t know what this store is selling. Does anyone know what “computer color graphic out put” is?

Out. Put.

Out. Put.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you’re going to invest in neon signage, it might be a good idea to check your message. What are you putting and where, exactly, is out? Maybe they mean that you upload a color image (a graphic) and then it’s printed? Or beamed directly to the intended viewers’ eyeballs? (Targeted marketing, you know, is trending.)

The next sign has the advantage of being crystal clear, if somewhat unwelcoming. Not for New Yorkers those syrupy signs saying “I heart you” or “NYC hearts all those annoying tourists who bump into us natives on the sidewalk or hesitate two nanoseconds on the coffee shop line.” This one displays New York snark, my favorite tone:

 

New York does not "heart" you.

New York does not
“heart” you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One last sign. I don’t mind being commanded to play. I’m totally fine with the order to dine. But how do you unwind games? And not to be picky (okay, to be super-picky), the sign should read “more than” 5000 games, not “over.” (More than or fewer than is the expression you want for things you can count. Over and under work for quantities you measure.)

unwind

 

 

I’m “minutes away” from giving up on properly written signs. Join me there whenever you like.

For want of a hyphen, the meaning was lost

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Hyphens sometimes seem like relics from the Age of Typewriters, when you had to hit a metal lever to roll the paper to a new line when you reached the right-hand margin, even if you were in the middle of a word. The hyphen told your reader that you weren’t finished yet and that the rest of the word was on the way. (Why do I feel I should explain iceboxes and record players next?) Word-processing programs move the whole word automatically when a margin is about to be breached, so hyphens have lost importance. They’re still around, though, creating compound words. Or at least, that’s what they’re supposed to do. Take a look:

Experienced sales? Sales-help?

Experienced sales? Sales-help?


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I caught sight of this sign while I was walking on First Avenue. I doubled back to figure out what “experienced sales” were. Sales that had seen a lot of life and now had a world-weary, been-there-done-that attitude? Sales that know the lady holding a bagel, venti soy latte, and cell phone is automatically bad news? Or was “sales” meant to be read all by itself as a new, nonsexist term for the older terms “salesman” and “saleslady”? A hyphen between sales and help would link those words and clarify the meaning.

All is not lost on the hyphen front, however. Here’s one that works:

 

One-stop as a single description! Grammarian of the Year Aware to the NYC Information Agency!

One-stop as a single description! Grammarian of the Year Award to the NYC Information Center!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shout-out to the NYC agency that made one description out of two words, one and stop. Shouts (actually yells) to the laundry that mangled this sign:

 

Laundry machine? Machine press?

Laundry machine? Machine press?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s a laundry machine? Or a hand press? Yes, I know I’m grumpy grammarian again, because I did eventually figure out that machine press is the opposite of hand press. I’m still not over skirt plested in the top right column, but as soon as it stops raining, I plan to run out to buy two politically correct pajams.

To exit on a high note, here’s a truck with three (count ’em) correct hyphens, which create two compound adjectives:

do-it-yourself

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you’re relocating to New-York (the older form of this city’s name), consider this company. They may ruin your furniture (or you may do that yourself), but you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that the hyphens on the truck are in the proper spots.

 

 

 

 

Missing and presumed . . .

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Adding to the pretension stalking New York menus, my favorite bar has taken to posting prices like 3.5 and 1.5 after a detailed description of its artisanal pretzels and available toppings. I can only assume that the printer – actually a photocopier – charges by the character, so the missing zeroes are a sign of thrift, not a way to show you that this is not any ordinary bar, but one with originality (and expensive side snacks). Which would be true if 2.5 dollars’ worth of potato chips were not part of a larger pattern of missing letters and numbers. This sign, for example, kept me scratching my head for a few minutes:

N = ?

N = ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

N? Seriously? I objected (and actually still object) to shortening “and” to ‘n, which is a glorified grunt, but without the apostrophe all you’ve got is a letter. Also, what does “now” mean in this context? Were they going to place polish later? Earlier?

But back to the missing. Take a look at this sign:

Apostrophes AWOL as usual

Apostrophes AWOL as usual

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apostrophes are so often misused that finding mistakes with them is like shooting fish in a barrel. (Does anyone do that, by the way? Besides being unfair to fish, wouldn’t the barrel leak with a bullet hole in it?) Here the sign should read “men’s” and, ideally, “women’s and men’s.” I’m pretty sure of that fact, but I have no idea how “weaving” can be gendered. But then again, I know grammar, not fishing, shooting, or weaving.

This gem adds instead of subtracts. Focus on the hyphen:

 

A bar-deli?

A bar-deli?

 

 

I still can’t imagine what a bar-deli is, unless it’s a spot to knock back a beer while your salami is sliced and your macaroni salad weighed. And what’s with “produce”? Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m guessing that you can’t find anything cheaper than $5.5 at this Upper East Side bar-deli.

Don’t Sit the Birds

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Grammar rules may seem irrelevant, but they do provide a frame of reference, standardizing meaning and enabling your audience to figure out what you’re trying to say. In this post, adapted from a page I created a while ago, I offer some signs that left me scratching my head. First up is this gem:

sit birds

 

 

 

 

 

 

This sign appeared above a two-inch-wide ledge outside a grocery store. I understand that you’re not supposed to feed the birds, but I guess you’re also not supposed to bend their little legs to make them sit on the ledge? (Yes, I know the sign-writer probably aimed this request at human beings. But trust me: No human rear could ever perch on this tiny spot.) The meaning, as written, is not clear, but at least the sign-writer was polite enough to say “please.”

Here’s another interesting sign:

What's an "overweight permit"?

What’s an “overweight permit”?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No doubt this sign is crystal clear to truck drivers. The rest of us are left in the dark, which is exactly where I do not want drivers to be as they navigate Park Avenue, one of the busier NYC roads. I want their attention on the road, thinking about pedestrians and other motorists. I don’t want them to wonder whether (a) it’s okay to drive with an overweight truck if you didn’t bother to get a permit or (b) a driver who is a little too fond of 2000-calorie lunches has to get an “overweight permit.”

How long are your feet? How wide are your shoulders? Measure them and then see whether you qualify for the “Package Special” advertised in this sign:

 

Ten inches?

Ten inches?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Items 3 and 4 use a single quotation mark, the traditional symbol for “inches.” The owner of this store may be using the navigational symbol for minutes, which pops up in measures of latitude and longitude. (Maybe the masseuse is a former sea captain?)

One more:

Neighborhood sensation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are they offering “sensation”? Or welcoming it? And has the Vice Squad visited?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Got a D?

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On your report card, for English? If so, you have a lot of company. Increasingly I’m seeing signs with missing “d” sounds, which should be spelled with the consonant (d) or with the past-tense suffix (ed). I imagine that the spelling error comes from the sound of the words, the same kind of mistake that leads people to say “should of,” wrongly expanding the contraction for “should have,” which is “should’ve.” Here are a few signs that rate a D in English:

diner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It would be nice to think that this diner seats you so that you are never “close” to your neighbor, but as it’s open 24/7, they really should have (should of?) written “never closed.” Keeping on with the food theme, here’s another:

grill cheese

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The disturbing thing about this sign is that it’s in wide circulation. I’ve seen it on windows all over New York City. Forgetting for a moment about cholesterol and food quality, is it too much to ask that someone printing a few thousand signs check the spelling of “grilled”? One more food fight:
old fashion2

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess you should order “grill cheese” on an “old fashion” bagel? Perhaps you should ask for a discount. Take a look at this sign:

require

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reflection makes this sign hard to read. It says, “ATTENTION: STUDENT WE GIVE 10% DISCOUNT, BUT ID IS REQUIRE.” Where do I start? “Require” needs a “d,” to become “required.” “Student” ought to be “students,” with the colon moved to the end of that word as they are being addressed. But who am I to quarrel with this generous offer? At least the discount goes to the students. Here, elderly lady that I am, I’m on sale for 10% off:

senior

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah, I know I’m being picky. But that’s grammar.

 

 

 

 

 

Firefighters v. DOT

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There seems to be a fight going on within the New York City government, a statement equivalent to “water flows downhill.” In this instance, the fight is about parking (ditto on the water-flow comment). The fight plays out on signs posted around the city. According to the Fire Department, you cannot park at anytime” – one word:

Here you can park "anytime" - one word.

Here you can park “anytime” – one word.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the other hand, DOT, the Department of Transportation, goes for “any time” (two words): 

Now you can't stop for "any time" - two words.

Now you can’t stop for “any time” – two words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which is correct? The Fire Department. As one word, anytime means “at any point in time – now, an hour from now, half past never, etc.” As two words, any time means “an amount of time,” as in “Do you have any time to waste looking for a parking space?”

The same formula is true for sometime and some time. You can come up and see me sometime (whenever you choose) to spend some time (an amount of time) with me. Well, actually you can’t. I’m shy.

 

Let Us Punctuate

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This sign is behind glass, so I’ll clarify what it says: “LET US SHIP YOUR LUGGAGE.”

Let us ship your luggage.

Let us ship your luggage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I saw this sign, my first thought was  “great idea, but I’ll probably have to mortgage the co-op to take advantage of this service.” My second thought was “why is let us different from let’s?” A sign reading “Let’s ship your luggage” is an invitation to a playdate. We’ll get together, have some wine, and then take turns sticking labels on suitcases. Yet contractions – shortened versions of words or phrases in which an apostrophe takes the place of missing letters – are supposed to mean the same as the full-length expressions they replace. So why is it that when people say, “Let’s do the wash,” they aren’t offering to take a chore off my hands, but a sign saying, “Let us do the wash” excludes me from responsibility? Perhaps the contraction includes the speaker and the person/people addressed, and the full-length version doesn’t.

This was my favorite theory on the difference between “let’s” and “let us,” until I thought of church. When a preacher says, “Let us pray,” everyone is supposed to participate – both preacher and congregation. (I can’t picture a member of the clergy saying, “Let’s pray,” now that the Sixties are over and guitars and interpretive dances have fallen out of favor in religious rites.)

My third thought, in case you’re counting, is that the contraction creates an air of friendship and the unshortened expression adds a sense of formality. The shopkeeper offering to ship luggage or do the laundry is engaged in a commercial transaction. The preacher is acting in an official capacity, calling the congregation to prayer.

Is this the final word on “let’s” and “let us”? Let’s wait and see.