As a trained linguist, I listen for misunderstandings. They provide great insights into conversational dynamics, and of course, it’s a fun mental puzzle. I thought I’d share a couple of my most fun misunderstandings. (Full disclosure: both stories happened on vacation in Italy, years ago. Yes, like many I am daydreaming about the possibility of travel. These popped in my mind recently while reminiscing…Maybe someday soon?) 
 
What would you like to order?

It was a scorching hot August day on the Amalfi coast, and we were a group of sticky hot tourists looking to take a lunch break. We sat down at a beautiful restaurant, one of those you see in the pictures with massive lemons hanging in a trellis up above. Once everyone had studied the menu and decided what they wanted, the server came. My Italian was better than the others’ and so I ordered for everyone, based on what I’d remembered everyone wanted, in the order that I remembered it. The food started to arrive at the table, in a seemingly random order. We were puzzled. Why was a second course coming out with a starter? Where’s my pasta? Why were the dishes coming out in rounds, rather than in order, or all at once? 
 
The server must be incompetent. That was the only possible explanation. Italians were serious about course order. This guy must be a goof ball, or maybe he was just having a bad day? Then suddenly came the aha. The pattern to the “random” order? The dishes were coming to the table in the exact order I had requested them. The laugh was on me! 

Want to go out and play?
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A few years back, I took my niece and nephew, who were 6 and 8, respectively, to Italy to visit family. The kids spoke no Italian, but they made instant friends with some locals. One afternoon the neighborhood kids came by, wanting to play. My niece and nephew went out happily, and about five minutes later, stormed back in, angry and frustrated. 
 
“They are cheats!” they declared. 
 
“I don’t want to play with them anymore.” 
 
I went out to talk with the Italian kids to find out what had happened. They were just as puzzled. “What were you playing?” I asked? And as it turns out, the Italians were not playing freeze tag, as my niece and nephew had thought. And the Italian kids weren’t cheating at freeze tag. Instead, they were playing a similar game, but with different rules. My niece and nephew had assumed the worst—without the benefit of language, they had no idea what had gone wrong.

We’ve been using the phrase “in this economy” to refer to state of the economy.

A couple examples that might sound plausible to you:

• “In this economy, new college grads are at a disadvantage.” 
  
• “In this economy, retirement is not possible.” 
  

Built into the expression, “in this economy,” is the understanding that we are facing an economic situation where there’s little to no growth, unemployment is high, and poverty is on the rise. In sum, times are tough.

We can agree on what “in this economy” means, but why do we say, “in this economy?” It’s always interesting to think about what we’re choosing to say—and all the alternatives. What are we not saying? Why not say, “the current economic situation?” Why not say, “recession” or “depression,” or “crisis?”

Linguists look at a phrase like “in this economy” and notice the word “this.” It’s a term that reflects “deixis,” or situates the phrase in space and time. Depending on the speaker and the context, terms like “this” and “that” attach themselves to different meanings.

In the expression, “in this economy,” the word “this” does two things:

1. It keeps the economy “physically” close to the speaker. It’s very personal. It’s nearby.
2. It talks about the present and maybe even the near future. It’s now. It’s tomorrow. It’s probably not going to change in the short-term.

Saying “in this economy” is different from saying “current economy,” which speaks to a time in place (now) and presumes that, with time, the economic situation might change.

To what extent is how we think about the economy shaped by the currency of the phrase “in this economy?”

(I am not crazy enough to think that an economic crisis can pass with a slight mindset/language change, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.)

A yoga studio I follow posted this to their Facebook site: 

[We have] classes for everyone. We don't care if your overweight, aren't flexible, or have no experience.

What’s your reaction? Is it inviting or insulting?

I zeroed in on the word “overweight.”

I felt its punch like a smack in the face. Linguists refer to this as a 'face threat.' It is a statement that pushes me, the reader, down, i.e., by insulting me or impinging upon me in some way.

The "voice" of the studio is that of a fit, lean, healthy person…speaking to a fat person.  I'm not feeling the yoga solidarity here. Suddenly “difference” (their healthy weight vs. my extra few pounds) is called out in a bald way. On the record, they are putting me down!

The intent?

The studio wants to set a tone of inclusion. They know that yoga studios can be intimidating for the un-initiated. And they are trying to counter-act their “image,” i.e., lots of lean, limber people who seem to know their way around a sticky mat.

Back to the Facebook post. Why doesn’t it work?

You usually see marketing ploys to build up the 'positive face' of the reader. That is, use flattery all over the place to cultivate customers or encourage repeat business. It sounds something like this:

“You have exquisite taste ... you are a hipster ... you deserve it … So buy what we’re selling.”

What might work better?

I have found that yoga and the language of yoga is gentle and inclusive. Yoga instructors talk discretely in terms of “body types” vs. “fat” and “inflexibility.” They also emphasize the individual, non-competitive experience of yoga. This tends to disarm new people and create a comfort level in the studio. They also help orient new people to the "culture" of yoga in a positive way. It's true that yogis “stay on their own mats.” No one is looking around (much of yoga is an eyes-closed activity) making comparisons around the room as to “who’s better.”  So, play this up!