Tag Archives: usage

Down with Apostrophes!

Maybe it’s the spirit of rebellion inspired by the approach of Bastille Day, but I have to ask: Why do we need apostrophes?  Perfectly respectable languages — French and Spanish come to mind — manage without them. Does anybody really think that writing “Georges flag” instead of “George’s flag” will mislead a reader? Unfortunately, abolishing apostrophes is not an option I can exercise unilaterally. And while they remain part of the language, I do think they should be used correctly. Often, they aren’t:

 

 

 

 

 

 

In this sign “sheets” is a plural, not a possessive. Therefore, this apostrophe isn’t okay. (Neither were the sheets, which looked a bit faded.) Maybe I should have razored out the apostrophe from that sign and inserted it into this one:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sorry for the blurry photo; a grate, a screen, and a window blocked me, perhaps an unsuccessful attempt to mask a punctuation problem. The space between the N and the S implies that the sign writer had an inkling that “men s” was a possessive requiring an apostrophe, not a plural to be written without one. Yet somehow the punctuation never made it onto the sign. Nor is it clear what “men s wanted current designers” means. But that’s not an apostrophe issue. “Men’s wanted current designers” is just as confusing.

Here’s a fine pair, from two different stores. Care to guess which is correct?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I vote for the second, reluctantly. In the first, “dine” isn’t a noun. The hot dog and fries could be a “kid’s dinner,” or “kids’ dinners,” if they don’t eat much. But something has to change (both grammatically and nutritionally). The case for the second sign is that “kids” functions as an adjective. Despite watching the “Yankees game” instead of “the Yankees’ game,” I prefer “kids’ classes.” Also a hyphen in “pizza-making.” Nobody ever said I wasn’t picky. Just willing to guillotine apostrophes out of the language.

 

Summer Slump

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.

Can We Reach an Agreement?

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

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

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.

A Valentine for You

I’ll keep this short and sweet for Valentine’s Day because you’re probably too busy (1) hugging your sweetheart or  (2) wishing you had a sweetheart or (3) marketing to sweethearts.  Which is what this store attempts:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m awarding a D- grade to the person who typed this sign, especially the last line. (“Your love one”? Really?) I’m also giving a D- to anyone who thinks caviar is a better Valentine’s present than chocolate. Or roses. Or even a trip to a fast-food place without kids, cats, or in-laws in tow. I mean, caviar is fish eggs, right? Don’t expect an “A+” from me for fish eggs! But I’m a grammarian, not a gourmet, so if “your love one” likes fish eggs, go for it. Just don’t call the gift “your caviar.” You’re a sweetheart, not a sturgeon.

They Should Know Better, Part 2

In the previous post I lamented (okay, mocked) errors made by major corporations and my favorite newspaper, The New York Times. Sadly, I have more than enough material for a second post on the same topic. Check out this sign, which did NOT appear in a hair salon or wig store:

 

 

 

 

 

 

This sign is fine if the intent is to ban the passing of hair clumps, shining though the tresses may be. But I suspect the intended meaning is that the couple with the dog must stay away. Or maybe they’re the only ones allowed? It’s worth noting that this sign is made of enamel over metal. If you’re going to all that trouble, a moment with spell-check would seem appropriate.

Moving on to a passage from a novel, as it appears on my Kindle:

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Phased”? Pardon me a moment while I grind my teeth. “Phase” as a verb means “introduce in gradual stages.” The verb “faze,” on the other hand, means “to daunt or disturb.”  This book was professionally edited (presumably) before being sold by a major publisher. And yes, this book may be categorized as junk-food reading, which I admit I indulge in, but I expect literacy all the same.

And then there’s this statement from the NY Times:

Huh? I read this several times before guessing that the hyphenated element means “present.” I question that hyphenation, but even if it were correct, “who’s who in-house” is awkward and confusing. The newspaper of record shouldn’t require repeated reading to reveal meaning.

Last one, also from the Times:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I paused at “web vertical.” Before I unleashed my scorn I looked up “vertical” and got all the meanings I expected (“upright,” “perpendicular to the horizon,” and similar definitions). But then I checked “web vertical” and discovered that a website covering one topic in depth is “vertical.” “Horizontal” sites cover many topics briefly. So this time the joke was on me. I read quite a bit about technology, and I should have known better.

Bus Woes

Aren’t buses annoying? First of all, there’s that plural. The usual phonetic rules call for a double “s” in the plural, and some people do indeed write “busses.” “Buses” is more common, yet for some reason I feel slightly wrong every time I write it. Then there’s the actual bus, which never comes on time because it’s waiting for a quorum. Passengers, that’s the real reason you see four buses pull up at the same time. Unless there’s a group of four, the bus-run can’t begin. Finally, there are the silly signs both inside and outside of the vehicles. For example:

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s worth noting that NYC city buses (except those on the airport route) don’t have luggage racks. But even if they did, are there people who need to be reminded not to climb the walls and sling a leg over a metal bar? Actually, scratch that question. This is NYC, so the answer is probably yes. I do wonder why “Luggage Rack” is capitalized. Normally, generic nouns are written in lower case. Perhaps adding capital letters makes the nonexistent item more real.

Moving on:

This one was on a tourist bus, so warning people not to slide the roof or throw packages is probably a good idea. People’s brains tend to hibernate when they’re on vacation. My favorite part of this sign is “frequencies.” I’d expect a singular there, because the time period between events varies, not the time periods. “Frequencies” makes me think of radio stations and, vaguely, astrophysics, which I can think about only vaguely because I have no actual knowledge of the subject. Also, why “approximately”? Isn’t that implied by “vary from 8 to 15 minutes”?

I used this photo in another post (http://www.grammarianinthecity.com/?p=2159) but I can’t resist repeating it because it’s such a good example of the “bizarre bus sign” genre:

 

 

 

 

 

 

DNA. Good to know. If you want to maintain your privacy, try not to shed any cells while riding. And if you wish to explore your genetic heritage, this bus is for you. Happy riding.

Calling All Creatives

Words slide from one part of speech to another all the time. How else could I meet some Yankees (noun) or watch Yankees baseball (adjective)? Nor is it rare for words to pick up new and fanciful definitions, though I confess that the first time I see the unexpected, I tend to assume the writer is wrong. Alas, pride does indeed go before a fall, because often I am wrong and what I thought was an error turns out to be a creative expression or a specialized usage.

Are these sign-writers visionary, knowledgeable, or grammatically inept? I’ll let you decide.

Man shirt?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The usual expression is “men’s shirt” or, in an apostrophe-stricken way, “mens shirt.” “Men’s” with the apostrophe is a possessive noun. Without the apostrophe it’s a mistake.  “Man shirt” turns “man” into an adjective. The dictionary allows for “man” as a noun (the man at the counter), a verb (to man the barricades) or an interjection (Man! That was awesome!) True, I don’t flinch at “man cave” (not at the wording, anyway). Perhaps the sign-writer didn’t want the correct but trite “men’s shirt.” But how to change it? “Male shirt” endows the clothing itself with gender.  “Shirts belonging to men” is too long and often inaccurate, as lots of people who aren’t men like the button-down look. “Masculine shirt”? That seems to rely on outdated stereotypes. Maybe “man shirt” isn’t so bad after all.

Moving on:

In my ignorance I was ready to impose an “unauthorized part of speech” penalty — until I looked up “creative” in the dictionary, which enlightened me to the fact that “creative” can be a noun applied to people who, well, create for a living: writers, artists, composers, and so forth. Apparently I’ve been a “creative” for decades and never knew it.

Last one:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Availability” as a noun is pretty common, but usually in the abstract sense: “Her immediate availability makes her the ideal candidate for Fire Warden, because two million acres are aflame and another million at risk.” But every dictionary definition of “availability” begins with “the quality of” or “the state of,” not “the place where.” On the sign, “availabilities” is a stand-in for “property you can rent if you have enough money.” (A little research into real estate prices showed me that “availabilities” are more expensive than “space for rent.”) Before I leave this sign, I have to address the meaning of “RSF.” I found a site listing 53 meanings for this acronym. I scrolled past “Royal Scots Fusiliers,” “Resource Selection Function,” “Rivista di Studi Fenici” (Journal of Phoenician Studies) until I arrived at “Rental Square Feet,” which seemed more apt than Scots, ecologists, and Phoenicians.

This whole post, by the way, arose from a New York Times article that quoted the phrase “negative effectives” from a judge’s decision.  Given that an “effective” is a “soldier ready for battle” and the ruling was about the military, the phrase might have made sense. Sort of. Then I checked other papers, all of which referred to “negative effects.” Sometimes a “new usage” isn’t creative or specialized. It’s just a typo.

Moral of the story (and note to self): Check before you scoff.

Sspeling Erorrs

I don’t usually bother with spelling mistakes, but when they appear on expensively produced ads, it seems to me that someone should have proofread before printing. Or before handing the finished product over to the customer. Or, at the very least, before hanging the sign on a store window, truck, or sandwich board.

Whether to double a letter or not seems to attract (atract?) errors like iron filings to a magnet (fillings to a magnett?):

 

Does this shop offer feline treats (mice, catnip, permission to snooze on a sofa that’s usually off-limits)? Or does the store host gossip fests, where guests can be as catty as they please?

Maybe the shop that does “cattering” should lend one of its Ts to this food cart:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I leave aside the issue of eating lunch at 10 AM or 4 PM, given that New York is the city that never sleeps and meals roam around the clock dial like sleepwalkers in a kitchen. Nor will I focus on the random capital letters, though I can’t help wondering whether lunch Time is supposed to reflect the eternal nature and importance of Time or whether the expression refers to a magazine. Instead I’ll confine myself to the meaning of the first line. Is the food cart offering to have the employee in charge of placing rice on the plate accompany you while you eat? And is Free Can Soda a call to action? I do like that sm matches content to form. The abbreviation sm is indeed small.

I don’t want you to think that whether to double the letter T is the only problem out there. S comes with stress in these signs:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Had I a marker and not an aversion to graffiti, I’d remove the extra S from “tresspassingin the second sign and add it to kind in the first. While wondering whether the second sign banned a hair-exchange app, I’d also delete the extra f from proffessional  or get rid of the word entirely. I mean, who else works in a tailor shop? Amateurs? Hobbyists? Not for those prices they don’t.

Now if only these stores would shell out a little cash for some proffessionnall prooffrreadding.