For the sake of my husband's sanity, I am composing this post entirely in the nude. (See prior post)
Having said that, I'd like to say a few words about the extra words we use.
Where do we take out money? The ATM. What secret code do we enter to do this? A PIN. Confused? Then back up and read the sentence again. (It's been spell and grammar checked, so hopefully it should be clearer the second time around.)
ATM = Automated Teller Machine and PIN = Personal Identification Number
Clear? Good. Now, let's discuss, shall we?
The Dilemma: You need to know the closest place to withdraw some of your hard-earned cash, so you can buy that completely useless thing you saw at Restoration Hardware that you just have to have right now, but want a little extra cash leftover for a 5000 calorie double-mocha caramel latte to celebrate your new purchase.
The Resolution: You ask the lady standing near the collection of oddly shaped drawer pulls if she knows where an ATM might be. She then turns to her husband, who's eyes are glued to the tramp-stamp on the 19 year old sales person who is bending over to find 18 more pewter twig-shaped pulls from the overstock drawer.
She turns and asks him the question, uttering the phrase, "Do you know where the closest ATM machine is?"
And then it happens. Your skin grows clammy, your pupils dilate, and you swallow hard, but quietly, pushing down the sudden rush of bile forming in your throat.
Pulling his attention away from the sales persons ass, the husband turns and says, "Huh?' At which time the woman repeats her question. But this time the only words that come rolling off the woman's tongue, do so in a slow, purposeful manner, as if to intentionally inflict a deeper grammatical wound on your highly tuned ears.
"ATM machine. Where's the closest ATM machine?"
The husband answers, but you've stopped caring about the money. In fact, you stopped caring about most things, including the double-mocha caramel latte. The world grinds to a halt. Shoppers cease to be heard above the burning sound in your ears. The mall musak stops. Even the cries of tired and irritated children fade into the distance.
"ATM machine". Like the sound of bullets entering the bloody waters on the beaches of Normandy, it echoes in your brain. And then the aural insult becomes too much to bear in silence. And words begin to force their way from the back of your throat, crossing the tongue and parting the lips.
The Explanation: “You know” you say, in your most polite tone, “that’s redundant?”
And it is done.
“Excuse me?” the woman retorts.
“Redundant. It’s redundant.” You fight the urge but the words just keeps coming. “ATM machine. It’s redundant”. Too late, it’s out. You have officially corrected the grammar of a perfect stranger. Someone who was kind enough to stop from her life long search for 20 matching pewter twig shaped drawer pulls, and to even ask her gawking husband, in order to provide you with the answer to your question.
The Back-peddle: Searching soulfully for a glimmer of humor in your reply, but coming up empty, you proceed. “ATM machine. It means Automated Teller Machine machine.” You know what you meant. But the unsuspecting victim of your condescending statement does not see the obvious, only the insult. She looks at her husband with disdain at his silence, then back to you.
Ugh. “You see, when you say ATM machine, it’s like saying, PIN number. The M in ATM already stands for machine, like the N in PIN stands for number. "
The husband briskly replies, “There’s an ATM machine in the food court”.
The Escape: You form a smile, painfully, and kindly say, “Thank you”. Alas, good words falling on deaf ears. English lesson over, you quickly turn, find your way into the safe anonymity of the madding crowd, and flee. And the thought arises.
Perhaps the coffee shop will take my debit card if I make it a Grande double-mocha caramel latte, and add a 3000-calorie chocolate chip muffin. Sigh.
We rant and rave about ‘foreigners’ and illegal aliens; phone books in Spanish and “They’re in America, why don’t they just learn English?” We complain about the education system not teaching our children the basics. Yet the words ain’t and irregardless are now staples in Webster’s Dictionary. People are being “axed” a question, instead of ‘asked’. We continue to say ATM machine and PIN number. And yes, dear reader, some of us are forced into the life of being a grammar hero, correcting the grammatical errors of perfect strangers; whether they want to be corrected or not.
No tip of your hat, no hearty "Hi-Ho Silver, Away!", and definitely no "Who was that nice lady?"
