M'y I He'p Yew?

The following is the epitome of slovenly speech and something that frequently chafes my ears here in The South.

M'y I he'p yew?

Or the even sloppier: M'elp yew?

Translation: May I help you?

Just a thought: work on your speech.

If you are too lazy to pronounce the words, you are in no postion to help anyone.

Is Great Britain - like - in another country?

I have horrendous experiences with trying to mail things home to Britain. Sometimes it's a geography issue, sometimes it's nonversation that causes the problem. On one occasion however, a cocktail of both led me to the mother load of all things ridiculous! The fact that the incident happened in a store that 'specializes' in global shipping makes this tale even more stunning.

I have used this store to ship things to my parents address back in Britain several times and they have a record of the address in their computer system. They always begin by asking me if I have shipped to the address before and since the answer is always yes, they proceed to pull up the record by name, for speed and efficiency.

This one particular day, the girl who worked there could not find me in the system. She checked under my name. She checked under my parents' names. She checked under the street address. I tried to prompt things along by reinforcing the fact that the address was in Great Britain, just incase that would help in any way.

Well, she still couldn't find it, so she suggested we start over and re-enter everything into the system. I didn't have a problem with that, if it got me out of there as soon as possible.

We go through the address painstakingly and finally we get to the 'Great Britain' part.

'Great Britain?' she asks.

'Yes,' I affirm.

I'm starting to feel dumbfounded at that point because I have already spoken in a very obvious British accent; stated that I was mailing the item 'home to Britain' and then double checked she got the 'Great Britain' part during our search through the system. The clues were everywhere.

'Is Great Britain - like - in another country?' she asks.

All manner of answers gushed to my lips but I managed to simply point out that 'Great Britain is another country'.

Finally, the lightbulb went off and our search for Great Britain in the database for addresses in the contiguous United States could cease.

The Great Brit-Tin Rate

I will be a little vague here, so as not to cause unnecessary embarrassment to the nice young lady who helped me out, but I have to share this story.

I was recently in one of these stores that specialize in postal services.

With birthday cards in hand, I asked, 'Will you weigh these cards for me please and let me know what the rate it is?' To be clear I added, 'I'm sending them to Great Britain.'

The young lady takes the cards and weighs them and in a short moment repeats, 'You are sending them to Great Brit-Tin?'

** Side note: without fail, for some bizarre reason a psychologist might palm off as subconscious mirroring, I frequently have people repeat things back to me sounding British-esque, but doing a horrible job with it. I'm sure they don't know what they are doing, so I let it slide; but let me just say this, it is a bit rude. How would it be, for example, if every time I talked to an American (or more controversial still, a person with a Chinese or Indian or German accent, to randomly pick a few) I mirrored them? Hmmm! Rude right? Be aware people ... be aware ... that's all I'm saying, and if you can tone it down, so much the better!

Anyway, to get back to the story, the young lady repeats, 'You are sending them to Great Brit-Tin?' to which I answer, 'Yes, thank you.'

Next comes the wide-eyed moment. She pauses and then asks, 'So you want the Great Brit-Tin rate?'

What? WHAT?

No! Give me the rate for Uganda! Especially if it is cheaper!

Of course I want the Great Brit-Tin rate. How else should we do this and how many times do I have to verify Great Brit-Tin for you!

Anyway, in all reality, she was sweet and I maintained decorum while the real conversation played out in full volume in my head.

As they say here in The South: 'Bless her heart!'

Cable ties and wire ties

This isn't really a true nonversational moment, but it's close and it's an amusing recollection in any case.

One day, on my real estate rounds, I noticed that one of my yard signs was hanging improperly. I was out in the wilds, with a two month old baby in tow and a very limited window of opportunity to get anything done.

I knew that I couldn't easily get my hands on the correct sized jump ring to rehang the lopsided sign. The one that had been there had rusted and snapped. Not to worry though, through the haze of my 'new momma' fog, I had a startling moment of clarity. There was an auto store fairly close by and they would have cable ties.

Inside the store, I waited and waited and waited while the men thereabouts cut-up with each other and took forever to look up and acknowledge me. I was afraid to wander off to find a cable tie on my own as I have no clue how these stores are laid out and my infant carrier and infant weighed like a small elephant. Instead, I stood patiently, trying to emit my very best damsel in distress vibes. 

Eventually, a nice young man appeared and offered assistance. I asked him if the store sold cable ties. He said he didn't know what I was talking about.

Retaining a measure of calm, I proceeded to describe them. Plastic strips - like a miniature belt - you thread one end through the other - there are teeth that lock the strap so it can't move back in the opposing direction - you use them to tie things like cables together - and so on.

The young man said he still didn't know what I was talking about, but he might have something similar. I followed closely behind him as he led me to a whole section with signage that said ... 'Cable Ties.' Hmm .. interesting! However, in my relief that this was over, I said nothing other than to thank him and ask him what he called these things, so that I would know how to ask for them if I needed them in the future. He answered very exactly, 'Oh, these are wire ties.'

I made a mental note that indeed, some of the packs were called 'cable ties' and some were called 'wire ties', an interchangable term it seems.

I was a bit startled at the lack of initial understanding, but all's well that ends well and the young man was at least trying to be helpful; so I left happily with a bit of extra chalked up knowledge and my wire ties.

Would you like fries with that?

My most recent example of someone talking to me without engaging their brain, happened to me in an almost identical fashion, twice within a month.

A certain hamburger chain had a push on their cafe coffees and got me hooked on mochas, with their short-lived but extremely effective 'Free Mocha Mondays'.

I frequent at least three different 'cafes' on my rounds about town. The incident in question happened in two different places, so it is a more widespread training issue than just a one off type of occurrence.

The powers that be, in this identity crisis franchise, have gone to the extent of posting instructions on the drive-through menu to inform you of your choices and make your coffee ordering experience simple and enjoyable.

Anyway, the instructions clearly run you through the decision making process and tell you how to present this information to the staff. You state the size of your drink; the type of drink and whether it is hot or cold; your milk preference and whether you need to add a flavored syrup.

I'm always very concise. Firstly, I like to be helpful, but, being a 'foreigner' or 'not from around these parts,' I aim to minimize or avoid any more confusion than I already create with my accent. (Ref. other postings)

I usually order the coffee and add, 'That will be all thank you.' Even so, they usually all still ask me, 'Anything else?' so I repeat myself. (I could just wait for them to ask the question before I make that summarizing statement, but I live in hope that, one day, someone will actually listen and respond accordingly, instead of just talking at me; but, that is another matter.)

On the two occasions mentioned, I went through the usual procedure outlined above and was then hit with this show-stopper of a question: 'Would you like fries with that?'

'Would you like fries with that?'

Would I like fries with that? Umm ... What?

I wanted to ask, 'Would you like fries with your coffee?' What kind of combination is that?

The bizarreness of my new coffee ordering experience here is not just limited to the above. One day at the drive-through, I ordered a large hot mocha and, instead, received a small iced mocha.

On another occasion, I asked for a plain latte with no syrup and received one with hazelnut syrup. As there were no other vehicles around or other coffee orders in process, I know they just totally mucked it up, versus giving me someone else's drink.

The final insult came one day when I decided to go into the restaurant, order face to face and minimize the potential for mistakes. My large hot mocha, non-fat came out as a small black coffee. Discouraged. I decided not to say anything and just drink the damn thing.

The waitress and the water

A comment to an earlier post reminded me of another nonversation moment.

I always encounter a spot of bother when ordering water in  U.S. restaurants, or at least those where I live. I assume it is because of my British accent. (Difficult to understand it seems!)

Whenever the waiter / waitress asks for my beverage of choice, it is always water. Usually, they will ask me to repeat myself. Almost always they slur the word back to me in a peculiar fashion that sounds something like 'warr-terr'. Most times, we make it past all that and I will receive what I asked for.

One day, however, I was met with the wildest comment of all.

At a fairly decent little place in town, during a quiet part of the day, a nice young lady confidently took my order without any of the usual rigmarole. Feeling refreshed by the change of pace, I slipped into reading the menu. After a few moments, the waitress reappeared, without my water and rather apologetically asked me, 'What is in that?'

Flumoxed I asked her, 'What is in what?'

'Your drink,' was the reply. 'How do you make it?'

It seems my British accent turned water into something far more interesting sounding, and she thought I had asked for some sort of sexy new cocktail. When she and the bartender couldn't work out what went in it, they decided to inquire.

After that day, I considered investing in flash cards, pictoral ones at that. Deciding to remain charitable, however, I opted for placing my husband (who has an American accent) in charge of ordering the drinks; which he still does to this day.

P.S. Cheesely enough, the only time I don't have problems ordering water is if I fake a southern accent and ask for 'waaa-terrr'. When I do that, by the way, I sound like a man, and a rather disturbed man at that!

Peppered ham

This is classic nonversation, combining 'not-listening' skills with the utterance of a slew of words that have obviously not been considered before spewing from the oral orifice.

I am in my local grocery store attempting to buy ham from the deli counter. It is the kind of ham where the outside has been smothered in peppercorns. The nonversation goes like this:

Me: I would like a pound of peppered ham please.

Her: Skewz me?

Me: I would like a pound of peppered ham please.

Her: Skewzzzzz me? (Sounding annoyed with me.)

Me: (Now blushing and pointing and totally clueless about how to rephrase my request) I would like a pound of the peppered ham you have here.

Her: Ohhhhhh! Yew mean PEPPER ham.

As I tell of this moment, I feel an internal explosion going on and my rage is mounting!

Let me break it down for you.

Number 1: Pepper ham and peppered ham are not so far apart in our language that it would have been impossible for her to work out what I meant.

Number 2: Grammatically speaking it is peppered ham.

Number 3: The label on the ham says 'PEPPERED HAM!'

Finally, I don't need to be told what I mean in this situation!

The scary thing? Weeks later, same store, different 'helper', the exact thing happens to me again! Verbatim! I stuck to my guns and announced I needed 'peppered ham', but this time I introduced the pointing action a bit sooner, to speed things along. I was struck dumb to hear again, 'Ohhhh! Yew mean PEPPER ham!'

Now this is does not end here. There is more!

Months later, we move house and I look forward to my first visit to a new grocery store. I waltz happily over to the deli counter with fresh hope in my heart.

When I heard the words, 'Yew mean pepper ham', I lost it!

I rarely buy peppered ham anymore. I just can't face it.

How are you today?

I am going to stick my neck out here and say that I loathe the expression, 'How are you today?'

I'm not trying to be rude, and almost no one I know get's it when I say this, but I've had it with that those four little words. I'll give you some explanation and maybe, just maybe, someone else will think, 'I know what she means!'

There is nothing wrong with being polite, cordial, pleasant and so on. When an appropriate occasion arises, I will belt out 'Hello!', 'Hi', whatever. I like being friendly and if I have made some kind of eye contact with you when walking by, you can be assured of a greeting. Sometimes, a simple smile or nod will do the trick and no words are necessary.

It worked for me, as such, for almost three decades. I had this social exchange mastered, or so I thought, until I moved to the U.S. From day one in The South, everything I knew and felt comfortable with was turned on its head. The first time someone said, 'How are you today?' I was left a bit bamboozled. We were striding at great pace in opposite directions, without eye contact, occupying the same plane for mere nanoseconds. It could be argued that no pleasantry of any kind was even warranted. 'Hold up!' I thought, 'This person asked me a question.' It was definitely me they were talking to because no one else was around. I stopped, looked back, but they were gone! They hadn't waited for their answer.

I puzzled as to why a smile, a nod, a 'Hi' were not enough. Those four words, spat out like bullets, left me side-swiped.

This act was repeated regularly in days that followed, until I realized that everyone was at it! It was a deep rooted ritual and I had to learn how to join in! Now, if you are from here, it probably doesn't even phase you to go through the motions as directed by the rule or play book in operation in these parts. I, however, was left fumbling!

If, upon being asked the four-worded-question, I should reply and repeat said question, the person would be long gone leaving me to mutter into thin air.

If I omitted my reply and just belted out the cordial enquiry to them, I felt as though I was breaking the format of language and social graces as I understood them to be: a question requires and answer etc.

Should I say nothing at all? After all, most times, they are not even around to listen? Well, that would still leave me feeling strange about our dialogue.

How do I do it then? After almost ten years of this ridiculous exchange, which isn't really an exchange at all in fact (an exchange would be to imply that something was given and received) I simply wing it. Sometimes I blurt with the rest of the population; sometimes I ad lib and sometimes folks, I am silent! It is in my silence, or my small modifications of the ritual, that even more absurdities emerge!

For example, I have been asked the dreaded question and simply replied, 'Fine thank you', feeling like that would suffice. Over my shoulder, I hear those same words echoing back from the person who had obviously thought I had asked them the same question, when indeed I had not.

Now the first time this happened, I chalked it up to a lazy mishap, and moved on; but let me tell you, in all seriousness, these mishaps are happening all over the place! It's an epidemic.

The mishaps occur in the 'passing' interchanges as described; but also with cashiers who are right there and so, you would assume, able to pay closer attention. Just a few days ago, the mean streak in me wanted to point out to some poor little thing, that she had given a reply to a question that was never asked. (I refrained, incase you are wondering.)

Well, there it is! My vent about the plague of over-used, tedious words that sub as a real greeting. I feel better for getting that off my chest. Until the next time it happens, of course!