Tag Archives: English idioms

“Euph” and Old Age

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The New York Times recently referred to a “residence for older adults.” My attention snagged on the term older. “Older than whom?” I wondered. The unfinished comparison brought to mind of one of my pet peeves: all the signs reporting that a shop’s coffee, beer, hamburger or whatever was “voted best” without explaining who cast the ballots — chef and spouse, 300 million Americans, everyone at the corner table . . . you get the idea.

Then I realized that older adult is just one of the many euphemisms for, well, the old. Somehow older sounds softer than old. The elderly is somewhere in the middle . . . not as harsh as old, but not as sappy as older. In the past (which we older adults remember well), retired people were known as Golden Agers, living in their Golden Years. Ironic terms, if the stats about the retirement income of most people aged 65+ are correct.

These terms replaced some fairly accurate, descriptive, but unpleasant labels: long in the tooth (just wait – your gums will recede someday too), graybeard (can’t shave with reading glasses on), and declining years (what’s not to sag?). These  terms are the reverse of euphemisms (mal-misms?) but in some ways I prefer them to the shinier autumn of life or advanced age.

Think about advanced for a moment. “To advance” is “to move forward.” And where are you going at an advanced age? What is ahead of you? This expression is a close relative of senior, a term that showed up in the 1930s when old people ate free food at senior centers.

 

Senior. Sigh.

Senior. Sigh.

As a former high school teacher who dealt mainly with 12th graders, I shepherded many seniors toward graduation and college. Applying the term to the last stage of life (insert  your favorite euphemism here) makes me think about my own graduation — from senior to . . . well, whatever’s next. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that one!

Maybe this sign has the best answer. From now on you can call me major, the opposite of minor.

 

"Under 40"?

“Under 40”?

Unintended Meanings, Part 2

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All business owners want to offer something unique. Their fondest wish is to drive out the competition by cornering a slice of the market that consumers can’t find elsewhere. Right?

Wrong, according to this sign, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t say what the proprietor intended:

 

"Everyday" is not "every day"

“Everyday” is not “every day”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The service in this salon is available “all day.” So far, so good. But to move from the 24 to the 7 part of the expression 24/7, the next words should be “every day,” not “everyday.” What’s the difference? The two-word expression means “today, tomorrow, the day after that, and so on.” The single-word expression means “ordinary” or “commonplace.” According to the sign,  you can get your hair styled in an ordinary way at an extraordinary time of day. (Even that statement isn’t totally accurate, as the salon isn’t in fact open all day. But that’s exaggeration, not grammar. I’ll let it go.)

A few blocks later, I saw this sign, which still confuses me. My first reaction was to wonder: What are “plumbing keys” and “electrical keys”? The gap in the middle suggests that the “keys made” part belongs to two columns.

 

What are "plumbing keys"?

What are “plumbing keys”?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps the owner wanted to emphasize this small but essential service to anyone needing an extra set of door keys? Or maybe the point was to capture my attention. If so, mission accomplished.

Lest you think that all I do is complain, here is a sign that (be still my beating heart), correctly pairs singular pronouns with a singular noun (pet):

 

His/her! Not "their"!

“Him/her,” not “them”!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In societies without companion-animal spas, designer cat beds, and dog booties, the pronoun “it” would suffice. But this is New York City in the 21st Century, which is rife with those items (and many more pet-indulgences).  Who am I to quibble with unconditional love and its pronoun necessities? I once had a parakeet that more or less lived on my shoulder, when she wasn’t laying eggs in my husband’s lap. (Note that I said she, not it.) So I’m giving this sign my seal of approval, not least because it begins with “please” and ends with “thank you,” two niceties that aren’t always found in the Big Apple.

 

 

 

 

Unintended Meanings

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Walking around Manhattan, I often feel the urge to enter a store, grab an employee, and ask this question: “What, exactly, do you think your sign says?” I’m rather shy, and I also understand that most storeowners and employees are far more interested in selling goods and services than in grammar and usage. So I don’t ask anyone anything. Nor do I explain the unintended meaning of the signs I see, such as this one:

Just one bagel?

Just one bagel?

 

Get there early, people, because after one bagel is sold, you’re out of luck. Here’s another puzzler:

Three adjectives? Two adjectives and a noun?

Three adjectives? Two adjectives and a noun?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Does this sign offer the services of a gifted psychic or something else that is gifted, psychic, and spiritual? If so, what is that something else? Maybe the noun, psychic, is bookended by two descriptions – gifted and spiritual. I’d tell you the answer, but I can’t.  I’m not psychic.

And then there’s this salon, which offers a facial for the neck or back. If you’re working on those body parts, is it still a facial? Or are you getting a neckal and backal? But that’s not the best part of this sign. It’s the high frequency and excellent custom mask. I don’t know what that is, but I want one.

 

Custom mask?

Custom mask?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time I finished reading this sign, I had quite a few dead cells I wanted the shop to “eliminate” — from my brain.

Not Raining but Poring

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Nobody seems to look for anything these days, if my favorite newspaper, The New York Times, is any indication. A small selection from just a couple of days in April 2015:

  • CIA analysts  “poring over drone video feeds, satellite data, electronic intercepts of cellphone conversations and informants’ reports.”
  • A writer “on her couch, poring over a new story.”
  • Football coaches “poring over game film and scouting reports” before the draft (for players, not for combat).
  • American “business and investment lawyers poring over the mash-up of laws in the existing trade embargo” of Cuba.
  •  Angora rabbit fans (who knew they existed?)  “who spend time coddling the rabbits and poring over their pedigrees.”
  • The South Korean government, “poring over private chats” in an invasion of privacy.

I’m not sure what to make of all this poring, which, by the way, is not related to climate change. “To pore over” is “to read or study carefully, in an attempt to remember,” according to one dictionary. That definition doesn’t seem to be the operative one lately. Instead, poring over is the new sifting through — checking a mountain of information for just the right fact. Not that sifting through has gone away entirely. I got more than 4000 hits when I searched for “poring” in the NY Times site, and a slightly higher number for “sifting through.” In the last two weeks, jurors were “sifting through” evidence in a high-profile murder case, a scholar was commended for “sifting through” early Modernist works, and an actor was depicted as “sifting through television and film scripts” in search of a new project. An employer was “sifting through resumes” and someone else was “sifting her memory for clues about her father’s secrets.”

And then there’s data mining. Can’t you just picture  data miners, wearing reading glasses instead of helmets with those little headlights, poring over their algorithms, hoping to uncover something of value? The gold nugget, so to speak. Before data mining I often read about people massaging the data to find patterns. I’m not exactly sure what you do when you massage the data, but it sounds like a lot more fun than poring over or sifting through.

All these terms, though, mirror how overwhelmed we are. Documents, film, audio tapes, and rabbit pedigrees — how are we to keep up? The haystack keeps getting taller and the needle smaller. Me, I’ll just keep looking.

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.

No problem? Problem!

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In the supermarket where I have shopped for years, I hand my money to the cashier, and she returns my change. “Thank you,” I say, as I always do. She replies, “No problem.” No problem? Yes, I know that it is not a problem for her to give me my money. The change belongs to me, and it’s her job to return it. How is there no problem in doing one’s job? I think all these things, but I don’t say anything because I’ve known her for years, and she’s a very nice lady. I walk out of the store wondering why the old response to thank you, which is you’re welcome, has faded and why no problem has taken its place.

I have a couple of theories. The swiftest glance at the news immediately reveals that “problem” is the word of the day, every day, in pretty much every part of the world. I don’t know how you feel, but increasingly I have the sense that I can effect very little change (of money or anything else). Perhaps no problem has become a way of saying that yes, in this area I’m in charge, and there’s no problem I can’t fix. The tiny assertion of control in this sense can be powerfully comforting.

Another possibility arises from the fact that customers in New York City are not known for their placid, patient demeanor. A “New York minute” lasts about five nanoseconds, and the chin-out, baseball-cap- twisted-backwards style of confrontation was invented here — or, if not invented, at least perfected. So thank you may be a nice change, a respite in the semi-mythical land of no problem. Maybe no problem is short for I have no problem with you, though I do have problems with pretty much everyone else.

You’re welcome may have lost favor because it comes from a different time and emotional place.  Perhaps it implies that you are here, and I’m glad you’re here, and you are welcome to this service, however small. In this struggling economy, that’s a good statement for a business owner to make. But it’s a stretch for staff who are overworked (how many layoffs have dumped additional tasks on remaining employees?) and underpaid (where did unions go?). Gratitude for having a job may be overwhelmed by anger at the amount of  work and compensation.

I can’t leave this topic without mentioning the equivalent terms in Spanish, as I’ve just returned from a week in Madrid. “Gracias” is the Spanish word for “thanks.”  The root word is related to “grace,” “gift,” “ease,” and “humor.” The response in Spanish is “de nada” (“of nothing,” literally) or “nada” (“nothing”). A variation is “no hay de que” (“there’s nothing to speak of”). Gracias implies that the person being thanked has been given something joyful. The responses signal that really, nothing much happened. In other words – there’s no problem.

For the record, I favor a return to you’re welcome. I’d like to believe that the store employees want me there, and not just for my business. Yes, that’s delusional, but it’s also human.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

A Name Too Far

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Some years ago I called for a moratorium on ‘n, the pseudo-contraction that’s supposed to take the place of and in expressions such as burgers’ n beer, wings ‘n fries, and other cholesterol-laden linguistic and culinary crimes. Nobody heard me and nothing changed in the public arena, perhaps because the only people present when I called for this were a bunch of English teachers who wouldn’t dream of substituting a grunt for a conjunction.

Allowing hope to triumph over experience, I’m now asking for another moratorium, this time on the invention of cutesy names for beer. Now, I don’t drink beer. I do, however, hang out at times in bars where good draught beer is served. I like watching people enjoy a glass of amber liquid that reflects the sunlight and casts a warm glow. At first, it was fun to read the bar menu and savor names that hadn’t been derived from corporations. Out with Miller, Pabst, Budweiser, and the like, I thought. In with Victory Hop Devil, London Pride, and other creative terms.

Melange a Trois with 3 Philosophers?

Melange a Trois with 3 Philosophers?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But things have gone too far. The unusual has become commonplace and thereby lost its luster. Moreover, the contrived names increasingly leave consumers scratching their heads. When the name column on the beer menu expands to accommodate three inches of letters, it’s time to pull back. Let Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hops Club Brand alone, please. Instead, describe what’s actually in the beer – wheat, blueberries (and by the way, who on earth would ever want blueberries with beer?), bitters, whatever.

I assume that this post will lead to a new trend in beer names, or, at the very least, a batch of Extra Grouchy Grammarian Stout.