Tag Archives: grammar

Wading into a swamp of uncertainty

To read signs in NYC is to wade into a swamp of uncertainty. Please, dear reader, put on your thinking cap and thigh-high boots. Rescue me from the swamp generated by these signs.

First up: this beauty, which was affixed to the fence surrounding a site associated with the never-ending construction of a new subway:

What kind of location?

I fooled around with hyphens for a while in the context of this sign. But what’s a “white-hat location” or a “white hat-location”? The punctuation mark solved nothing, because I don’t know the significance of a “white hat,” beyond the traditional (and somewhat racist) idea that good guys always wear white hats. I pondered whether the sign referred to “hard hats,” which are supposed to protect workers from head trauma. But then why not say so? Also, I’ve seen many construction workers wearing hard hats in other colors. Perhaps the hat color is associated with rank, in which case this location is open only to those who have earned a white hat, which, like a black belt in karate, signifies that they’ve achieved proficiency in something (subway building? procrastinating? maneuvering around piles of metal rods and concrete blocks?). Your guess is as good as mine.

Next up is this awning:

No candlestick maker?

I went through the hyphen calculation again with this sign and came up with nothing. If it’s “prime-butcher baker,” is the baker toasting top-notch butchers? Maybe it’s “prime butcher-baker” and the store employs a skilled (prime) person who works on both meat and baked goods. At one point the concept of prime numbers flashed through my consciousness, but I couldn’t link 2, 17, or 983 (to name a few) to the “butcher baker” idea. If any mathematicians have theories, please send me a note.

Last and maybe least is this one:

For cars?

What’s a “reduced garage”? For tiny cars only? A garage with fewer spaces? I thought the sign might refer to “reduced prices” until I took a look at the fees, which, I promise you, were in no way “reduced” unless your standard of measurement is the amount charged to park a car inside a luxury hotel suite (a ridiculous but apparently real offer to billionaires who have abnormal relationships with their vehicles).

I have more, but I’ll wait for a future post. I don’t want to swamp your speculative powers.

Boxing, New York Style

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Manhattan apartments are notoriously tiny, and so are Manhattan closets. So it’s not surprising that during my walks around the borough I encounter many shops offering storage. What is surprising is the nature of that storage. For example:

Legal? Illegal?

Could be oregano, parsley, or . . . well, I’m sure the DEA would supply a list of herbs that people might want to stash off-site.

And then there’s this beauty:

Put your cold in a box.

Absent a hyphen, the sign’s meaning is ambiguous. The shop may be offering to store boxes that are low in temperature (cold-box storage). Or, the sign may be targeting sneezers, coughers, and those with similar symptoms (cold box-storage). I know I’d like to stash my ailments at times, especially when I see this sign:

What’s free?

I also know, however, that the old adage, “you get what you pay for,” is true. So what’s free: the storage of a box (contents cost extra) or the box (storage charges apply)? I’ll let you know if my kitchen runs out of space and I have to store some herbs, eggs, milk, or anything else.

Stop full stop.

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I’m not against periods, the punctuation mark the British call “full stops.” But everything has its place. Traditionally, periods appear at the end of sentences that make statements or give commands. They’re also used in abbreviations. Lately, though, periods have been popping up in odd positions, as in this sign in front of a coffee shop:

Why is there a period after “birch”?

The shop’s name is “Birch” — I think. It may be “Birch.” Or is it “Birch. coffee”? And why is the period there at all? Is it supposed to add authority or emphasis? Perhaps the store owner wanted to give a sense of completion, as in “sip your latte here and your life will be complete.” The only thing I know for sure is that the punctuation mark doesn’t indicate a command. (“Hey you! Birch now or face the consequences!) Nor does it end a statement, because there is no statement.

I expect strange things from retailers, but somehow I thought that religious institutions, with help from the Almighty, would do better. At least I thought so until I spied this sign:

This church needs heavenly punctuation guidance.

True, this sign contains more words than the café sign, but they don’t form a sentence. The church indeed appears to be “warm, welcoming and beautiful,” but not grammatical.

Nor can you count on the banking system to come to a full stop (in punctuation or in finance):

Two nonsensical, non-sentences appear in one sign.

I don’t expect “pleasure” from my bank. Do you? The “2% cash back” sounds great — but 2% of what? And back to whom? I can’t blame the Great Recession on faulty punctuation, but a lack of clarity in bank communications appears in both. Just saying.

My advice: For a period of time, let’s agree to put a stop to unnecessary full stops. Then we can decide whether to give this punctuation mark additional duties. That is, “Extra. Duties.”

Contradictory Words

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As I worked my leisurely way through the Sunday paper a week ago, one phrase stopped me in my tracks. The New York Times, which should know better, referred to a “very mediocre” rock band. According to my dictionary, “mediocre” means “moderate” or “not very good.” So “very mediocre” means “very moderate” or “very not very good.” Aren’t you glad I cleared that up? Nice to know that something can be extremely not extreme.

That experience sent me to my picture files, to see whether I had any photos of signs with contradictory meanings. I found this one:

A specialized generalist.

When I was a kid, my doctor was a “general practitioner.” He was good at many areas of medicine, but when things got interesting, he sent me to a specialist. This sign in a 24-hour, no-appointment-necessary, storefront clinic leads me to believe that the “multispecialty physicians” inside are, in fact, the 2016 version of “general practitioners.” They may have the medical equivalent of several masters degrees, but I doubt it. I’m not complaining about the medical aspect of this sign. The docs inside may provide excellent care. I am complaining about the language, which is much less precise (I hope) than the diagnoses and remedies dispensed there.

One more example of a contradictory statement comes from an official notice taped to a streetlight on my corner, announcing a public hearing on issues affecting the neighborhood. Here’s item three of the agenda:

Restricted to?

Turning again to the dictionary, I found that “restricted” means “admitting only members of a particular class.” Thus a street “restricted to” vendors is a street where vendors are allowed — but nothing or no one else. No stores, cars, residents, annoying little kids on scooters — you get the point. I spent the rest of my walk trying to reword the agenda item to reflect the most likely intended meaning: how to keep hotdog carts, ice cream trucks, tables piled with “designer” handbags, and other such vendors off the block. Expressing this idea concisely was surprisingly hard. “Restricted from” doesn’t do the job, nor does “restricted against.” I came up with “barred,” in this revised wording: “Discussion of the process of barring venders from a street.” Alternate versions welcome.

I know I’m being picky (what else is new?), but I do believe that language should be precise. How different would our current political campaign be if every candidate followed this principle, even if their command of the language was “very mediocre”!

The Price Is (Maybe) Right

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Some luxury marketers brag that if you have to ask how much something costs, you can’t afford to buy it. But we non-one-percenters do need to know how much of our hard-earned money we’re plunking down. Which question is hard to answer, if you rely on signs like these:

Any 1/2 hours?

How much do you pay to park here, not counting tax? If this were a math problem on the SAT, your choices might be (A) $4.22 for the whole day (B) $4.22 for a half hour (C) $4.22 for some unspecified number of half hours or (D) any of the above, depending upon how well you tip the parking attendant at holiday time. I’d probably go for (D), realistic New Yorker that I am, but (B) is not out of the question. But how can a driver figure out the price while whizzing past this parking lot, eyes (hopefully) on pedestrians, other cars, and bicycles?

Car parked, you may want to eat a little something. Specifically, six inches of something:

Six inches of what?

This sign hangs in the window of a sandwich shop, so I guess you’re paying for a “six-inch” roll, with one of six designated fillings. But if it’s a meal, do you also get six inches of beverage? If so, is the liquid in a narrow test tube or in a broad-mouthed beer stein? I’m hoping for dessert, too. Maybe a six-inch éclair.

One more:

Those two-letter words will get you every time.

My favorite word is now OT.

I don’t usually bother posting spelling mistakes (too easy a target), but it’s not often I find a misspelled two-letter word. I imagine that “OT” should be “TO.” Even after you adjust the spelling, though, you have to wonder whether the rent is “up ot” half off. After all, the sign specifies “EVERYTHING,” so you can make a case for false advertising if rent is not discounted too.

The moral of this story: Buyer beware!

Extra! Read all about it all!

Short takes

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No lengthy discussion today. These signs speak for themselves. True, they speak gibberish, but they do speak.

First up is a photo my friend Jacqueline sent me:

What brand is your kid?

Ignoring the pretty important fact that baby-selling is illegal, I’m surprised that babies are branded. If you purchase one, does the kid come with a little logo?

Here’s another puzzler:

Look younger with what?

So you wear the spa, accessorized with pearls? That would be quite a fashion ensemble! And do you have to have the spa custom-fitted?

One more for today:

Define “organized.”

If you’re completely disorganized (and just about every kids’ sport I’ve seen falls into that category, as do the Yankees at times), you’re fine. If you’re organized, go somewhere else.

Maybe somewhere with signs that make sense.

Deer Equals Phone?

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I thought I’d seen it all, grammatically speaking, until I read an interview with Phil Schiller, the marketing tsar for Apple’s empire. If you think you have several iPhones, according to Schiller, you’re wrong. You have several iPhone (or iPad or iPod). Schiller likened the products’ names to the words “deer” and “clothes,” which, he said, can each be both singular and plural.

Good to know. And good luck with changing people’s habit of referring to the “iPads” on display in an Apple Store. If I were Schiller, I’d worry more about misappropriation of the lowercase letter i, which you see in this clever (but probably trademark infringing) sign:

Does Apple know?

I ( i ?) should point out that no one ever talks about one eyelash, except when referring to an errant hair falling into an eye. In this sign, though, “iLash” is a modifier of the noun “salon,” so the singular makes sense. (Sort of. Does anyone actually need a salon for eyelashes, or iLashes, or iLash?) Plus, following Schiller’s edict, “iLash” can be plural. Would Schiller say that this sign may be singular, or does his rule apply only to the lowercase letter i ?

One eyebrows.

And here I thought that the singular form for this feature was “unibrow.”

If Schiller prevails, these two signs will be correct:

How many?

How many “cent”?

I guess I should celebrate the “s” on “wings,” which, I’m happy to say, aren’t “iWings.” Yet. And I should note that Apple’s marketing materials do add “s” to their product names. The interview didn’t take place on April 1st, but Schiller may have been fooling around anyway. Time, or times, will tell.

Massage Tips

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The rise of e-tailing has led to the decline of brick-and-mortar retailers. But personal services can’t easily by sent via UPS (or drone, for that matter). You can’t have a haircut delivered to your apartment, though you may — if you’re financially fortunate — have the haircutter arrive at your door for a few quick snips. Fortunately for bloggers like me, personal-service shops abound in NYC, and their signs are as loopy as any other sort, outclassed only by everything composed by the city’s Department of Transportation.

Shop owners who knead body parts for a living may be great at their chosen task, but they’re not necessarily good at advertising. Recently I saw this disturbing claim:

If your front-foot is sore, you’re out of luck.

This sign would be fine (though perhaps not effective) had it appeared in a vet’s office or a dog spa. But it’s in a salon devoted to bipeds. Grammar note: The hyphen creates a single adjective, a description of the noun “massage.” In this case “back-foot” implies a lead (front-foot) and a follower (back-foot). I wonder whether a person’s back- and front-feet correspond to their dominant hands. But that is a question for scientists, not grammarians.

Here’s another variation:

What kind of rub?

Now there’s no hyphen, just an artistic slant that leaves the meaning floating somewhere over the Land of Confusion . Maybe “back or foot rub”? Or “back and foot rub”? Personally, I like to know which body parts are involved before plunking down my cash.

The moral of this post:

Tips appreciated.

Not a gem of clarity either (“waxing massage”? “facial tips”? “waxing facial”? “massage tips”?), but, dreamer that I am, I choose to believe this sign refers to a veteran masseuse, eager to impart wisdom garnered over decades to newcomers to the profession.

Maybe even a few tips about hyphens.

Sweet mysteries of life in NYC

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Like a squirrel hoarding nuts, I’ve been stockpiling a few mysterious signs, hoping that at some point their meanings will emerge. These signs, all from shops selling food, defeat and delight me. I offer one or two interpretations and invite you to add your own commentary. First up is this beauty, which appears on a chalkboard in front of a hip (i.e. overpriced) restaurant:

I prefer maximal, myself.

My interpretation: You may find a grain or two (sand? wheat? spelt?) in the food, but grainophobes have nothing to fear here. Same restaurant, different sign:

Bring a lasso.

My interpretation: The loaf lopes around the dining room. If you can catch it, you can eat it. Or, the loaf parties all night and won’t follow any rules.

One more, from a different store:

Two-foot ceilings?

My interpretations: This shop (a) sells neatly ironed, fruit-based beverages or (b) was a normal- height building before King Kong’s foot flattened it.

Your ideas are welcome. As you interpret the meaning, though, keep in mind that these signs appear in New York City, which may be defined as having a

Oh, yes we do.

Grammarian in the City

Snarky remarks on language I see and hear in New York City

Tag Archives: grammar

Boxing, New York Style

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