Tag Archives: signs

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:

Back-foot?

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 rub?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 are.

Oh, yes we do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Driving yourself crazy

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Pity poor New York City drivers, who have to decide where to “pull” their vehicles – over, up, down, and, well, insert the adverb of your choice. Before I go any further, can someone explain why “pull” is the verb here instead of  “steer” or “drive”? Perhaps we are still holding onto the reins of the horsepower in the engine. If so, it is time to let go.

Back to adverbs, the part of speech that tells where the action is. Check out this sign from a parking garage:

Down you go.

Down you go.

 

In this sign, “down” is an adverb. It must be. If it were an adjective, the driver would have to grab the “down ramp” (not the “up ramp”) and pull it. I rather like this sign.  “Down”  makes sense because the garage is below ground. Also, the sign is polite enough to include “please.”

Here’s another:

Ahead and up.

Ahead and up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now the driver is on street level, so “down” is out and “ahead” and “up” are in. Grammatically, there’s no confusion. But one teensy problem remains. The signs in the left lane, where the driver is supposed to “pull ahead” and “up,” hang over cars facing outward. Maybe “ahead” is short for “head-on collision”? You may also be puzzled by the “return” sign, wondering what else you would be doing when you pull into this garage. The only alternative is driving in circles inside the small empty space under the signage. But because the garage is associated with a rental agency, “return” makes sense . . . unless you look at the other two signs, which direct you to the left lane. To sum up: the signs tell you to pull into the right lane to return the car while simultaneously pulling ahead and up in the left lane.

My choice:  Walk. Otherwise, you may drive yourself crazy.

The most unkindest cut

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Shakespeare’s Marc Antony was onto something when he referred to Brutus’s stab at Julius Caesar as the “most unkindest cut of all” – something that  this New York City barber seems determined to avoid:

Nice to know they're kind to senior citizens and kids.

Nice to know the barber is kind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wasn’t able to determine what the gray tape covered. Perhaps it was “except when we’re annoyed” or another disclaimer? And is that where the little red dots come from – scissor stabs?  Regardless, I do prefer “kind cuts” from my salon, and I’m sure you do also. I am a bit upset by the lack of apostrophes, which create a warning that “senior citizens cut” and doesn’t explain whether old people with scissors make “kind” or cruel stabs and slashes. No guarantees after 65, I guess. At least when “kids haircut,” the only possible victim is a tress.

I can’t leave this sign without asking whether anyone knows what a “tape-up” is. Maybe something to do with the duct tape near the top of the sign? Nor have I a clue about the definition of “skin fade.” I’ve seen odd (to me) stubble-on-a-scalp looks, but wouldn’t those be “hair fades”?  And does “shape up” command you to finally get serious about dieting and exercise? Theories welcome.

W/ ?

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Although I often mock the signs I see around NYC, this one has me well and truly stumped. I chanced upon it in a hardware store near Lincoln Center, posted atop a gleaming, stainless steel box that would never fit into any Manhattan kitchen I’ve ever seen. It seems to promise something, but what? Take a look. Maybe you can figure it out.

W/ what?

W/ what?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I get that the abbreviation “w/” stands for “with.” After that, I’m clueless. I should have taken advantage of the offer to “ask associate for details,” but I was late for lunch and the display model, contrary to its advertised “w/ Food,” contained nothing edible. So I left, perplexed and full of questions. Does “w/ Food” mean it’s filled up once, on delivery, or always – a kind of cornucopia that magically refills itself? That last option might be worth the hefty price. But who chooses the food? And are we talking macadamia nuts and lobster or lentils and frozen peas?

This sign, I ultimately decided, is part of a trend. Throw meaningless words at shoppers and hope that they’ll be impressed and confused enough to buy what you’re marketing, even though they haven’t the vaguest idea what that is. Kind of like the current US presidential race.

So over to you, readers. Think of this blog post as a contest, like the weekly cartoon-caption challenge in The New Yorker. The prize for the best interpretation of “w/ Food” is, well, nothing.

Yes, I’m cheap. But I’m also honest and clear. Unlike this sign.

Covering Up

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The site: an elegant building in midtown with a glassblock wall rising maybe thirty feet, topped by the usual brick construction for many, many feet beyond that. A small patch of greenery, waist-high. In the middle, this paper sign (slightly the worse for wear after a rainy afternoon):

Lean, yes. Sit, no

Lean, yes. Sit, no

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The applicable dictionary definition of “façade” is “the face of a building.” Unless you have Spider-Man’s powers, it’s hard to imagine that you can sit on a façade. You can, of course, lean against it, if (in this location) you don’t mind trampling some perfectly innocent ivy.

The second definition of “façade” is “an outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant reality.” In a normal election year, I’d mention that politicians lean (as in “rely”) on facades all the time to conceal their “less than pleasant” plans or personality. This particular presidential campaign, though, gives me pause, and not just because I disagree with most policies of many candidates and some policies of all candidates. If this crew is leaning on a façade, it can only be to conceal a more pleasant reality.

With the possible exception of nudist camps, did you ever think you’d miss cover-ups?  Campaign 2016 is indeed different.

Illegal Words

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The scene: I’m chopping turnips and listening to my local public radio station. The action: The announcer promises an extended report on “illegal spying” after the break. The reaction: I spend the next ten minutes wondering if “legal spying” exists. The consequences: I  lose a thin slice of fingertip to inattention and have to rinse blood off the turnips. Denouement: I decide that “illegal spying” falls into the same category as “victorious traitor.” If you win, you control the language. That’s why no “traitor” ever gains power. A “traitor” who succeeds is a “rebel” or a “patriot” (see “American Revolution”).  So  James Bond isn’t engaging in “illegal spying” in the eyes of the British government. The nation spied upon, however, holds a different opinion. If James Bond gets caught, he goes to prison. Of course, James Bond never does get caught, not permanently anyway. Why ruin a franchise that reaps billions?

But I digress. This post isn’t about potboiler-blockbusters. It’s about legality and the words that describe it. Take a look at this sign:

P1010935 (3)

 

 

 

These words appear at a construction site, on the side of a shed that protects pedestrians from any falling debris. The ceiling of this shed is maybe twelve or fifteen feet high, level with the apartment windows on the second floor of the building. (How nice for the occupants! They can chat with construction workers over morning coffee.) Back to language: “burglary” is a legal term for breaking and entering a building in order to commit a crime. Okay, that word makes sense, because the shed could facilitate entry into those second-floor apartments. But “hold up”? This is an informal term for “mugging” or any robbery committed with a weapon.  Technically, the same bad guys sneaking through a window could “hold-up” the occupants, but this action is already covered under “burglary.” So why use both terms?

I didn’t lose a fingertip to this one, but I did speculate all the way home. Did the sign-maker envision armed robbers atop the scaffolding, taking wallets and jewelry from residents strolling on top of the shed? For a block or two I decided that the protection was for pedestrians under the shed – a sort of “walk through here and you’ll be safe” notice. Then I realized that “pedestrians” aren’t “premises.” So that theory bit the dust. At the end of the walk, I decided that another definition of “hold-up” worked best: “delay.” This company promises that the building will be “electronically protected” against missing sheetrock, striking workers, and four-hour lunch breaks. Now that is something worth paying for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You talking to me? at me? or with me?

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New Yorkers wait “on line” (when they’re not cutting ahead, which is impolite – and yes, lady at the supermarket yesterday, I’m talking to you). The rest of the US waits “in line” (most likely, more politely than New Yorkers). In the UK, something may be “different to” something else, but in the US it’s “different from.” In other words, prepositions – on, in, to, from, and many other relational words – slide all over the map. If you don’t know the customary regional preposition for a phrase, you can end up with a meaning you did not intend. And, I should point out, sometimes a preposition may lead to confusion everywhere.

Take this sign (please):

Note the poinsettia in the background.

Note the flower and leaves in the background.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These words appear on (in?) the window of a dry cleaning shop. I’m betting that the sign is an attempt to say that your clothes won’t be shipped to another state but instead be cleaned and pressed right there. The sign should probably say “all work done in our plant” or “on the premises.” Instead, the sign implies that workers are fertilizing, watering, snipping dead leaves, and doing other routine chores “on our plant.” Right behind the sign, by the way, are two poinsettias. They look like they need some work.

Check out this one:

Business with?

Business with?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This sign makes me picture a business meeting between an animated, talking, Disneyesque building and whoever uses this service entrance. After all, the sign specifies “approved business with this property.” Not with the owners, the residents, or the staff on or in or at this property. “With this property” has a nice ring to it, though, and raises a number of questions. Can a property negotiate business deals? Is this property, a large and elegant structure, harder to do business with than, say, a small brownstone or a five-storey tenement? Send your theories at me. Or to me. Maybe towards me.

 

Don’t Mess with a Grandma

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I more or less gave up on apostrophes a long time ago. There seems to be a cosmic jar filled with this punctuation mark, which writers shake over their texts, letting apostrophes fall willy-nilly into words. Thus I ignored this sign, which shoves an apostrophe into a plural, where it does not belong:

Tuesday's. Sigh.

Tuesday’s. Sigh.

Some grammarians call this usage a “greengrocer’s apostrophe.” (Notice the correct use of the possessive apostrophe in the term, which names a punctuation error.) Why “greengrocer’s”? My opinion, based on no research whatsoever, is that people who use this term believe a shopkeeper (greengrocer) is more likely than a non-business owner to insert apostrophes into plurals. That belief doesn’t match my experience. If I stacked all the student essays, term papers, and other writing I graded and corrected during my teaching career, the top of the pile would be within spitting distance of the moon and maybe even topple over onto a moon rock or two. Nearly all of those writing efforts included a “greengrocer’s apostrophe,” and none of the students were grocers, though many were (environmentally) green.

Though I scarcely glance at extra apostrophes, I did stop short when I saw this sign:

Granny

Granny’s combative.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The color difference between the first and last pair of lines initially led me to believe that the tavernkeeper was making a statement about grandmothers and their alleged capacity to slug someone. But I’m a grandmother, and though sorely tempted at times, I have never punched anyone. Then I noticed that no punctuation appeared anywhere at all. Perhaps the sign is a statement about grannies’ tendency to wallop cocktails, I mused. (Sidepoint: There are hot cocktails? Who knew! ) The image of grandmothers bopping martinis, mimosas, and other drinks made me wonder whether a new temperance movement was brewing. I still don’t know what the sign means. Just to be safe, I have one piece of advice: Don’t mess with a grandma, especially when she’s drinking.

Shop for . . .

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Who’s selling what, and where? The answers to those questions should be fairly obvious. Should be, but aren’t, as evidenced by the signs of New York, which increasingly appear to be written by people who assume we’re all clueless. In another post, found at http://www.grammarianinthecity.com/?p=735, I discuss a sign explaining that the drugstore has a “pharmacy dep’t. within.” (Oh good. I hate when pharmacists fill prescriptions on the sidewalk.) On the other end of the huh? spectrum is a “Sidewalk Sale Inside” sign. (See it at http://www.grammarianinthecity.com/?p=620).)

And then there’s the issue of what, exactly, is for sale. What would you purchase in this shop?

At least they're not roaming around the sidewalk.

At least the little guys are not roaming around the sidewalk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I should point out that every item in the store windows, and everything visible behind the windows, was an article of clothing meant for small humans. These questions arise: (1) Why the imperative statement “SHOP”? Does this mean that “just looking” is grounds for ejection? (2) Why the plural noun “kids” and the singular noun “baby”? (3) Aren’t babies kids? So why “kids and baby”? (4) As the sidewalk outside the store was empty, why mention “inside”? I’m not discussing the missing noun “clothing.” The idea of shopping for people is too terrible to joke about.

Here’s another. Are you a big fan of holidays? If so, you may wish to purchase this one, at half price:

How much is New Year's?

How much is New Year’s?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Think of the licensing fees you can collect next December! And here I thought the Christmas shopping season began right after Halloween. I guess it begins now, in early January, with the holiday itself on sale. Go for it!