In a Fix

When you feel the world is falling apart, you may want to remind yourself that repairs are possible. Mostly. I’m not too sure about some of these signs. This one, for example:

Equip?

There’s room for “equipment” on this placard, so I can only suppose that somebody thought “equip” was a good quip. I beg to differ. Then there’s “don’t matter.” Without punctuation, this may be saying that “any equip don’t matter,” but “doesn’t” works better there. At least the apostrophe is correct.

Not so in this sign:

Before they repair anything else, they should fix the punctuation, specifically by adding an apostrophe to “lets.” They could fix the grammar, too: “tablets and phones” are plurals, and “it” isn’t.

Surely this is an unnecessary fix:

Renovation? Unless they’re planning to paint the dirt green and plaster over the gopher holes, I think spring and Mother Nature can do what’s necessary. I may be wrong, as my experience of nature is limited, given that I live in New York City. Also, how exactly does someone close a lawn? Not this way, judging from the number of squirrels romping around.

Maybe they can be lured away from the lawn, to this shop:

What self-respecting squirrels wouldn’t want to fix their fur here, with “repairing especially”? Balding rodents may opt for “reweaving” instead. My preference is for sign renovation, but I’m not holding my breath while I wait for grammar errors to be fixed.

Sign-Spotters

What would I do without the sharp eyes and excellent grammar skills of my friends? This post is fashioned from the silly signs and ads they spotted. First up features a rather unappetizing menu item, noted by my friend Helen:

Liced?

I’m sure that she ordered an insect-free beverage. Or at least I hope so!

Catherine found this one:

Can other types of snakes relax there?

I imagine a “rattlesnake hammock” as a long, narrow sling, perhaps with some curves built in. I hope there’s a special pocket for the rattle. Imagine trying to warn off predators only to discover that the tip of your tail is caught on the cloth!

My friend Marlene discovered these two beauties on an academic website and sent me the links. I neglected to take a screen shot, so I’ll simply quote. Here’s the first:

TWO YEAR OLD TEACHER NEEDED

About a week later, this appeared:

THREE YEAR OLD TEACHER TO START ASAP

As Marlene noted, “They upped the age, probably because there were no inquiries from two-year-old teachers.” The school certainly sounds desperate! If you’re three and jobless, consider applying.

And if you notice any other linguistic absurdities, please send them ASAP, regardless of how old you are.

Please Explain

Every once in a while — okay, every day — I find a sign that puzzles me. I like puzzles, mostly, but I also like answers. With that in mind, I’m posting four signs, hoping readers will enlighten me. First up:

Does this mean it’s okay to garbage somewhere else?

Another question for another sign-maker:

My first theory about this sign: a “pre-action” is a thought. But then I realized that thinking is itself an action. That put me in chicken-egg territory, wondering which came first, the pre-action or the thought about the pre-action. What do you think? (And while you’re thinking, are you pre-acting?)

One from a beauty salon:

Is there an analog perm? If I go digital, will I have fingers in my hair, and if so, whose?

Last query:

Is there an epidemic of cave-ins caused by sloppy posture? Or is “Do Not Lean” just mean? I’m leaning (pun intended) toward answering yes to the second question and no to the first, but I’m willing to be convinced otherwise.

Explanations welcome.

ACRONYM-ITY

Today’s New York Times reports that people who participated in STRRIDE a decade ago now have (A) better health than those who did not exercise and (B) displayed an unhealthy attraction to silly acronyms. Which group, of course, includes STRRIDE, or “Studies Targeting Risk Reduction Interventions through Defined Exercise.” Duke University, you should have known better than to saddle a perfectly good research program with a name like that. The acronym wasn’t worth it.

I can’t help wondering whether Duke expects people to roll the double-R in STRRIDE, a skill students learning Spanish often struggle with. I also wonder how often people reading about STRRIDE in the Times think they’ve discovered a typo.

Which brings me to another question: Who decides whether an abbreviation is an acronym, with its initial letters pronounced as a word (NATO = nay toe) or whether its letters are named (UN = you en)? Personally, I’d opt for making the shortened form of United Nations an acronym (uh nn), given how often the organization is unproductive. But that discussion itself is unproductive, so I’ll leave it alone. Instead, I’m forming ACRONYM, for those Against Chronic Ridiculous Overused Names Yielding Nonsense. Join today!

Rapid Response Team

Some signs call for lengthy analysis, and others merit no more than a rapid response. Here are a few particularly odd signs that fall into the second category. From a tech store:

Okay, fine. Can we start by fixing the apostrophe that should appear in the first word of the sign? Then maybe move on to the pronoun-agreement issue (“tablets and phones” and “it”)?

From a department store:

Where, exactly are the little guys being cleared to? I’m not asking why, because as an experienced mother, grandmother, and teacher, I already know that an occasional, short “clearance” of kids is appealing.

Before I move on, I’ll share one thought. Wouldn’t it be nice to imagine the apostrophes missing from the first two signs are having lunch together? And speaking of lunch . . .

Is there anyone who prefers an uncracked egg? Or an egg that cracked a couple of weeks ago but is only now hitting the bagel?

One more mystery:

If it’s a “NO BUTTS BIN,” are you supposed to put the butt in or keep it out? Or — and I prefer this answer — not have a butt at all? And what’s that squiggly mess on the left side? (I saw it up close, and it wasn’t any clearer in person than it is in the photo.)

Please feel free to send in answers to these questions. And if you find two stray apostrophes, tell them to come home to their signs.

A Little Help

The Beatles got “by with a little help” from their friends, and so do I. These signs come from a cadre of alert observers. Presented with thanks, first to Sharon:

How polite to say, “Please do not become alarmed” immediately before asking passengers to “please use the button marked ‘Alarm.'” Nice to know there’s a “telephone ‘if furnished.'” Impossible to decipher, but nice to know.

Now another, courtesy of Jacqueline:

I have never visited that part of the world, but if I ever do, I will be sure to spend “less than tow nights.”

Another, this time from Don:

What’s with the S and its double duty? Labor-saving? Eco-conscious?

Now a menu from another friend via her friend in Madrid, both of whom prefer not to be named:

This one is a little hard to read (in more ways than one!) so I’ll type the most important line: “Salad with all it must have.” That’s how I always prepare salad. Don’t you?

One more, from my friend Marlene: an ad on Craigslist for a “2 year old Teacher on Long Island (Deer Park).” I don’t have an image for this one, but I’ll let you make your own, complete with a toddler, her grade book, and a bunch of chalk. I wonder whether the school offers free diapers to its faculty? Time-outs for tantrums? Bibs?

Speling Is a Lost Airt

I don’t normally bother to point out spelling errors in New York City signs, but every once in a while I can’t help myself. Why would someone have a sign professionally printed without running it through spell-check? I admit that spell-check is far from perfect, but still. A glance would have been enough to save this sign from over-consonance:

It would be nice to think that the sign-maker chose “dinning” to emphasize noise-level issues. I’ve often drowned a scarf in sauce while leaning over the table to catch one or two syllables. The background music and the shouts of other diners (dinners?) can be deafening! Alas, I don’t think that was the intention. On the plus side, the hyphens in “off-the-beaten-path” are correct.

Another instance of over-consonance:

When I saw this sign I immediately thought of Nagini, Voldemort’s pet snake. Read it aloud and listen for the hiss in “occassions.” I assume the sign-maker speaks Parseltongue, the snake language of the Harry Potter series.

The consonants are fine in this one, but not the vowels. The sign does, however, accurately reflect the feeling New York’s construction inspires in those of us navigating the city’s sidewalks:

If you’re overwhelmed after exiting the walkway, perhaps you’ll consider dinning out, with a sheet cake to mark the occassion.

Et Tu, NYT?

I once offered my students extra credit for every grammar error they found in print. Fairly soon I was forced to exclude mistakes from a couple of newspapers. Had I not done so, every kid would have received an A+. It was just too easy! But The New York Times was different. Finding a poorly worded sentence there was tough — then. Now, I’m not so sure.

Here’s a pull-quote that should have been pulled before it hit the screen or page:

Gentile?

What a difference one extra letter makes! I’m not going to speculate about the nature of “gentile” affirmations or how they differ from Jewish affirmations. Instead, I will proceed to another lapse in grammatical judgment.

This pull-quote comes from an obituary:

Surf that was used for D-Day?

I hadn’t realized that it was possible to “use” a surf, let alone “for D-Day.” Misplaced modifier, anyone?

One more, from my archives:

Printed before Amazon selected sites in Virginia and New York.

“Square foot modern.” A new architectural style?

In fairness to my local paper, I have to forgive the editors who overlooked these mistakes. No one’s perfect. As we all know, to err is humane.

Where?

I don’t allow my phone to broadcast where it is and therefore where I am, because I enjoy whatever shred of privacy I can wring from modern life. I do wish, though, that some signs gave better information about location. For example, imagine you’re driving and come upon this sign:

Bay?

A bay can be a coastal indentation that boats bob around in. It can also be a window or a tree, and sometimes the sound of a hound. Digging deep into the vocabulary of public transportation, you find that a bay is where a bus parks to pick up or drop off passengers. But suppose you’re driving a car on a Manhattan street. What are the odds that you’ll slow down to figure out where the “bay” is, or worse, that you’ll spend so much time thinking about the sign that you’ll overlook the red light in front of you? I stood near this sign for a while, watching cars turn left from any of three lanes, plus a bit of another, which was intended for vehicles traveling in the opposite direction. Redefine bay if you please, but please let it be common usage before it hits the streets.

Another location issue:

Curated how?

I’ve held onto this sign since last autumn, trying to decide what the thrift shop is doing. “Curated” implies careful selection. But “curated by location”? I can only imagine a vast sorting area with workers deciding whether a coat is “totally Chelsea” or “too Upper East Side.” If so, I’d like to see the selection criteria. Wait, actually I would not like to see the selection criteria. I gnash my teeth often enough these days.

Which brings me to this, the best statement about location I’ve come across:

Instant karma

I’ve seen several cryptic messages like this one, sprayed around my neighborhood. They take me back to the early days of Keith Haring’s career, when he pasted black paper over subway ads and then drew barking dogs or radiant children. Am I watching the next street artist develop? Maybe. Even if the artist never achieves Haring- or Banksy-level fame, it’s nice to know where karma comes back: in the shower.

Presented Without Comment

Actually, presented with only a little comment are these signs and the questions they raised when I saw them. The first involves finance:

4 – 7 p.m.?

I can only hope that the bartender doesn’t get paid by the (happy) hour, which runs from 4 to 7 p.m. I’ve given up correcting signs announcing that you get one cocktail when you buy one. What they really mean is that you get a second cocktail for free if you pay for the first one, but I won’t bother pointing that out. Seriously. I won’t even mention it.

To enter this construction site you need a helicopter:

How do you “sign at 2nd floor first” without passing through the ground floor? I’m giving the sign-writer a pass on “everyone enter” and “be orientated.”

Last one comes from a restaurant for people with extra-strong teeth:

Lacking hyphens, the four adjectives run together and provide interesting food for thought, which is the only sort of food they’re offering, according to this sign. Is it a batch-market or market-fresh? I don’t know or care, but I would prefer not to eat plates, even if they’re made from local clay, scooped out and kiln-fired at the height of the pottery season.