Again with the Prepositions

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The title of this post begins with an adverb and a preposition, in that order. For those who’ve never heard the expression “again with,” imagine those words spoken in exasperation, the same tone you’d use for “not again!” (eyeroll optional).  I hear “again with” often in New York City, but I don’t know whether it’s in common use in other areas. Custom, not set-in-stone grammar rules, generally governs prepositions. I wait “on line” in New York, but my granddaughter, who lives in Seattle, waits “in line.” Both of us are grammatically correct (and usually impatient).

Although you have a fair bit of leeway with prepositions, some usage is downright strange:

 

 

 

 

 

 

The odd texture of this photo comes from the screen in front of the sign. Every time I pass “these windows,” I wonder why a double preposition (“BY or NEAR”) appears. Either would make the same point. Coupled with the tripled exclamation point in the last line, I suspect the people living behind “these windows” aren’t happy with their ground-floor apartment. In NYC, that location means you’re essentially living in (on?) a crowded sidewalk, because screens and  glass do little to keep out smoke and between-puff conversation.

Another confusing preposition:

 

 

 

 

I hope the company’s food prep is better than its grammar, because “since” means the company was established at some point between 1983 and the present — including, say, this morning. A different preposition, “in,” would place the company in the “thirty years and counting” category, which I suspect is where it belongs.

Another:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not sure why, but “repairs on” sounds odd to me. It makes me envision someone hovering above a necklace or a ring, loupe and screwdriver in hand. A helicopter jeweler, perhaps, for this era of helicopter parents? I’d substitute “to jewelry” or “repair of jewelry” or simply “jewelry repair.”

Last photo:

To be honest, I’m not sure what this sentence means, regardless of prepositions. I do know that “in points” should be “at points,” but the significance of “affected by” escapes me. Theories welcome AT any time, DURING any time period, FOR the foreseeable future.

Almost Perfect

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Perfect isn’t possible, as we all know.  Almost perfect, on the other hand, is not only possible but common. But oh, sometimes that little gap between what you mean and what you write makes a huge difference. Here’s a bar with parenting problems:

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Mom” is my favorite day of the week. What’s yours? You can also see the first line of this sign as the beginning of a short-wave radio transmission: “Mom to Fri: I cooked all morning and you’d better show up for lunch!”  In that scenario, Fri is the son or daughter of someone with really poor naming skills.

Next is the announcement of a Supreme Court decision, sent to me by my son the attorney:

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s” is the contraction of “let us.” The headline makes sense, sort of, if you insert a comma: “Court, let us states legalize sports betting.” The comma places “Court” in direct address, signifying that the states are pleading for legalized gambling. Which some were, as I understand.  I imagine that the headline writers were too busy canceling their bookie accounts to recognize that an apostrophe shouldn’t appear in that spot.

This sign was sent by a friend. I suspect the Tourist Board was rather upset to see that some important letters were missing:

 

 

 

 

 

 

To answer the question in line one: I did not know. Kansas City probably didn’t know either. Nor, I guess, did visitors. My advice: substitute “yearly.” It’s easy to make that word perfect.

 

Summer Slump

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Summertime, and the living is sort of easy, depending on who you are (kids v. parents) and how well your air conditioner works. Most of us slump in the summer, because it’s too hot to do much of anything else. These NYC signs may offer some relief for slumpers, or at least food for thought. For example:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I won’t point out that this food market feels the need to state that it’s “open to the public.” Not for me to ask “what else would it be? a storefront that sells food only to family members?” Nope. Not a word. What I am interested in is the “daily action station.” I’m pretty sure that would come in handy for . . . well, I don’t know. But for something.

Then there’s this one:

My hair turns into a frizz field in NYC’s summer humidity. The sign suggests I turn to “Hairdecor.” Which is, I guess, different from a “hair cut” or a “blowout.” More a complete change of hair furniture than a new sofa pillow. Note the period, which the British call a “full stop.” This term suits the sign’s punctuation because “full stop” implies that “hairdecor” is the end of a story. Once you’ve got hairdecor, you’re done. The next time frizz sends me into a slump, I’ll go here.

But not here:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t need “detox.” Honestly, my main vices are an occasional scoop of ice cream and a binge session of British reality shows. (Try them. Everyone’s nice, and there tend to be a lot of fields with sheep.) Back to the sign: I’m not even sure what the “detox” is supposed to detox you from — the “fresh juice”? the “smoothies”? Nor am I interested in “pre/post work-out drinks,” though I admire the  nicely placed hyphen. I guzzle tap water when I get off my exercise bike. Some may say that’s why I should buy a “life shot.” And perhaps they’re right.

But I doubt it. Regardless of the composition of the “shot,” it promises to hit the purchaser with “life.” My experience is that life gives all of us shots from time to time, whether we want them or not. For free, too. And if you’re lucky, you learn to duck at the right time.

Let’s toast to the arrival of summer, with a shot of whatever you want.

Command Performance, Part 2

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Bossing other people around is fun, isn’t it? Being bossed around, not so much. How many people do you think obey commands that appear on signs in NYC? Enough to sit comfortably on a beach towel, I imagine, based on what I generally see. Maybe that’s why this sign seems to sigh with resignation right before it screams:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fine, “Management” implies, I know you may take a puff or bite or sip, but don’t even think about skating into my store. I hung out for a half hour without  glimpsing a single wheel. Nor did I see any cigarettes or snacks — just one water bottle peeking out from a handbag. Verdict: This sign is a rarity. It’s effective.

Not so these:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I could have snapped six more shots of signs prohibiting bicycles, each surrounded by bicycles locked to the railing, but you get the point. If any locks have been cut off and bicycles removed, new ones have sprung up in their place.

Some commands just beg to be disobeyed:

 

 

 

 

 

 

This sign makes me want to stay put. Alas, New York is always on the move, so that wasn’t an option. The next sign (courtesy of my friend Catherine) makes me want to move, quickly, to somewhere — anywhere — else:

Please explain what Fido is supposed to do if the curb is shut off. (At least the hyphen is right!) On second thought, please do not explain what Fido is supposed to do if the curb is shut off. I’d prefer not to know.

One more thought: The sign that accompanies each blog post (“Don’t Block the Box”) commands drivers to stay out of the intersection unless they’re sure they can drive through before the light changes. Yesterday, I did an informal survey. Cars blocked 9 out of 10 “boxes.” Pedestrians (including me) wove between vehicles, making what should be a straight path in a crosswalk into a curvy, almost choreographed, group dance. No one (including me) looked surprised or upset. Just another day in New York City.

Command Performance, Part I

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Now trending: signs that command you to do, or not do, something. Also trending: ignoring the signs that command you to do, or not do, something. I found so many examples of this genre that I’m splitting my trove into two parts. I’ll start with my own command: Check these out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My friend Ellie sent me this beauty, which visually commands you not to bring cigar-smoking, wine-swilling, skateboard-riding dogs into this park. A boomerang may be tucked in there also.

Delivery people have strong arms, right? Good, because this sign commands them to be boxers or construction workers:

 

 

 

 

I guess if you’re a bicep-deprived UPS, USPS, or FEDEX employee, you’d better bring a phone.

Need a rest? Try this place:

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Enter here” and emerge four months later. No problem! But if you’re driving on the Upper West Side, this sign is definitely a problem:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not counting the absence of punctuation, the grammar is correct. The meaning? It’s perfect, but “egress”? Really? P.T. Barnum, the 19th century showman and trickster, moved the maximum number of people through his museum each day by posting a sign reading “This way to the egress.” Few equated “egress” with “exit” until they were outside, re-entry prohibited. Which prompts this question: How many New York drivers can define “egress”? And where will they park while they’re googling it? My guess: right in front of the sign.

PRE- Views

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Three letters, three problems. Maybe more, if you estimate the number of misinterpretations possible with these signs, all of which contain the letters P, R, and E. Such as this one:

The prefix “pre-” means “before.” The office referred to in the sign above (a center providing services to senior citizens) closed . . . before its proper time?  forever, as in “permanently”? Perhaps both are true, and, I might add, tricky topics when you’re talking to or about old people, who may find distress in the concept of closing “premanently.” I passed one of the new locations of this organization yesterday, by the way. It’s at the bottom of a steep outdoor staircase, with no elevator in sight. They might be inviting a few premanent climbing injuries.

Onward and upward, to this ad, which appeared in today’s paper:

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Pre-owned” used to be the new “used,” but now, in a post-truth world, “pre-owned” is “new.”  (Digression: If this is the post-truth era, what was the pre-truth era like?)

I’m not wild about “pre-owned,” but to my mind it’s better than this expression:

 

 

 

 

“Pre-loved”? Seriously? I like my handbag. I use my handbag. I carry it everywhere. When I was little, the only expression I learned in Croatian, which my parents spoke when they wanted to hide something from me, was “watch your handbag,” so afraid were they that a passerby would snatch up my lunch money. But love? Nope. And if someone did “pre-love” a handbag, you have to wonder what shape the bag’s in. I think I’ll stick to “new” and “used,” premanently.

Where?

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Take the Q32 bus between Manhattan and Queens (two of New York’s five boroughs) and you see just how diverse this city is. On a single bus route you find an Irish pub, an Ecuadorean restaurant, a Nepalese shop, and countless other spots that celebrate the residents’ heritage. That makes sense to me. These signs do not:

It’s not that I want to see Brazil’s influence wane, but is there something wrong with American bees? I realize that “Brazilian Waxing” refers to hair removal, but surely most people, like me, don’t know exactly which areas are targeted by Brazilian Waxing as opposed to, say, Canadian Waxing (if that exists). I have glimpsed ads for “European Wax,” but once again I don’t know that continent’s hair-removal conventions. Nor would I like to find out.

Moving on to academics:  A young friend of mine studies, according to the cover of his  textbook, the “Japanese system” of math. Presumably his schoolwork is different from the lessons here:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silly me. I thought numbers were the same everywhere. Then there’s this store:

 

 

My favorite French teacher, Jacqueline, would be the first to tell you that my verb conjugation could be cleaned up, but I doubt this store would help. I’ll be in Paris next month, where I’ll check for stains. If I don’t find any, I’ll consider bringing my garments here for French cleaning.

And what is this business selling? Stoves that do a great job on bratwurst? If so, sign me up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last but definitely not least is this exercise regimen, offered at a gym near my home:

I googled “Russian Kettlebells” and discovered that (a) they exist and (b) they’re handheld weights and (c) they’re the subject of much controversy. (Is anything connected with Russia not controversial these days?) Apparently some people swear by American Kettlebells, and others are faithful to the Russian version. I have no intention of trying either exercise, but I do wonder whether patriotism is part of the equation. Maybe if I’d studied Russian Mathematics I’d know.

Can We Reach an Agreement?

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Probably not, if you believe television pundits discussing the polarization of viewpoints on pretty much everything. Probably yes, if you ask me. I may be overly optimistic, but I still believe we can find our way back to respectful debate and at least some agreement on important issues.

But I’m not a politician, I’m a grammarian. In that context, my answer to the title question is “probably not.” Why? Take a look at these signs:

I snapped this photo on a bus, where the sign was attached to a curve. Hence the odd angle. In terms of agreement (the grammar rule that says singular pairs with singular and plural with plural), this sign also has an odd angle. The subject of the first sentence is plural (“a lot of funky smells”), but the verb, which is tucked into the contraction “there’s,” short for “there is,” is singular. No agreement there except among noses, which will indeed detect “a lot of funky smells’ with every sniff of New York air. Moving on to the second sentence: The subject and verb are both plural (“WashClubbers” and “are”). So far, so good. But “one”? I’m not sure what “WashClubbers” are, but I am sure they’re not “one.” They’re not grammarians, either. In case you’re curious, “one” is the subject complement in that sentence.

As they say on late-night TV, “Wait! There’s more!” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I won’t go into the fact that the manufacturer thought customers needed to be told that “shower caps” are for people who want to keep their hair dry. (Okay, I’ll go into it a little: What else would you use a shower cap for? Fashion? Have you ever looked in the mirror when you’ve got one on your head?)  My focus is on the plural subject, “shower caps,” and the singular verb, “keeps.” Nope. Disagreement felony.

I’m not going to end with the platitudinous “let’s agree to disagree.” Instead, a call to arms: Let’s agree to agree, at least in grammar.

How to Speak Real Estate

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In a previous post, “(Truly Real) Real Estate”  (http://www.grammarianinthecity.com/?p=783),  I went over the basics of how to speak the NYC dialect of Real Estate. I explain, for example, that “cozy” means small, and  a “charming” apartment hasn’t been renovated in fifty years.

For anyone moving on to the intermediate level — perhaps members of Gen X, Y, or Z looking for a spot in one of the city’s boroughs, here’s lesson two. Similar dwellings move up the price-ladder in this order:  “apartments” are cheaper than “residences,” which in turn cost less than “homes.” My personal favorite, “boutique,” is the most expensive. In the commercial market, the price of “an opportunity” is much more than what you shell out monthly to the landlord of a “store for rent.” Furthermore, assume that deadlines are open to interpretation:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I cut off the right side of the photo because I don’t like to give real phone numbers. I do like to give real dates, unlike the sign, which promises that the “residences” (price alert!) will be “Available Fall 2017.” I took the picture three days ago, in the spring of 2018. Judging from the scaffolding and debris scattered around, not to mention the “mandatory hard hat” sign, spring of 2019 is more likely.

And count on hyperbole. If a building is advertised as being “steps from Central Park,” the statement may be true only if you take about a thousand steps and have fairly long legs. (I actually saw this phrase on an ad for a building on my block, which is a brisk fifteen-minute walk from the park.)  Another hyperbole: a “home” (price alert again) advertised as on the 20th floor may actually be much lower. If you’re in an elevator on the way to an open house, notice whether the buttons skip, say, floors seven through nineteen. Then do the math.

But those are minor quibbles. Anyone can be late or exaggerate, right? Redefinition, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. Take a look at this ad:

For readers who have lived only in houses, I should explain that a “studio” is a one-room apartment. Except if it’s the studio advertised on this sign, which somehow has “2 room.” The hyphen, by the way, is missing in the compound adjective, “two-room” or, in this sign, “2-room.” (It’s probably hiding, too embarrassed to be part of this ad.)  The accompanying photo shows a large, bare room with no visible doors. Maybe they’re counting the bathroom as a room? Or they assume you can hang out in the basement with your bike, designating the storage area as a living room? Perhaps they believe you will pitch a tent in the “communal garden,” which, because we’re talking about New York City, could possibly have plants but may also be a patch of concrete without a roof.

Lesson for the NYC house hunter: learn to speak our real-estate dialect, and, as always, buyer beware.

Think Before You Name

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I’ve been reading a lot about Generation Z recently. Also known as “post-Millennials,” Gen-Zers were born between the ’90s and the early ’00s.  Speaking of the ’00s, I remember debates about what to call those years (2000 — 2009). I rejected “the zeros” but liked “the oughts,” perhaps because I spent most of those years thinking about what I ought to do and then not doing it. Like staying on topic, which I always ought to do and just now did not. Anyway, back to Generation Z: I don’t care much about the traits and careers of Generation Z. I do care about the name. Generation Z came after Generations X and Y. Where do we go from here? Someone started us close to the end of the alphabet, undoubtedly rebelling against the parental generation, the Baby Boomers. (You notice that group had a sensible name. World War II ended and boom, a bunch of kids were born. A big bunch. Enough to make a boom.)

So what’s next? Maybe there will be a return to the beginning of the alphabet (Generation A, which will probably have too much self-esteem because of the label) or doubles (Generation ZZ, which will perceive a license to sleep wherever they please). I can also envision computer terminology creeping into the picture: Generation Z.2, anyone? They’ll all be wired, anyway.

Lack of foresight in assigning labels, by the way, isn’t confined to generation-naming. Art fell into the same trap with the term “modernism,” a movement that began in the late 19th century and continued through the early part of the 20th — not exactly antiquity but also not what I’d include in a statement about “modern times.” Ditto for post-modernism (mid-1980s onset). I guess everything after that is post-post-modern. Quick quiz: How many “posts” does it take to make autocorrect self-destruct?

My conclusion: Think before you name. Think before you do pretty much anything! Otherwise you end up with a mobile ballet studio

 

 

 

or a name that has no place to go.