I didn't catch the guy's name at first, but the voice mail said, "I need to take a look at a no cool." 

For a second, I was puzzled. (Who or what is "no cool?") Then, I remembered that we'd put in a service request to get the air conditioner (AC) checked. I contextualized a little..."no cool" must be industry jargon for "broken AC unit." Got it!

The voice message made me smile for a second, because, after I translated it, I realized help was on the way...during a very hot summer. Then I began thinking about the feedback I wanted to provide the technician:

• Empathize with your customers; broken AC units cause a households a lot of stress
• We're concerned about how quickly you'll fit us into your schedule; it's July and very hot
• We're fearful about the cost of repairs--yikes!
• We fear that you may charge us an unreasonable amount (because we no nothing about AC!)
  
• We generally have no idea what you're talking about, and you're talking about our house (a thing we feel we should know and understand)

The first bullets can be assuaged by some good customer service, professionalism, and empathy.

Just as important is the last bullet: We aren't speaking the same language. And that's adding to our stress and overall experience with your service guys. It also makes it hard to trust that we're making a good decision in authorizing repairs. (Read: in how we're spending money and taking care of our house.) Please, explain it in plain English.

In your business, what jargon terms or phrases do you say to customers or clients? What's the impact to the customer experience? (If you aren't sure, have you ever asked them?) How could you be more clear?

It's 2003, and I'm working for a university study abroad program in Madrid. I'm talking to Paco, our art history professor. He looks at one of our students, a Bulgarian woman. "She really sounds like a Spaniard," Paco comments. 

"I know! Her Spanish is excellent," I agree.

"Yes, she has a great command of the language," Paco said. "But it's her voice that's really authentic. She has a deep, raspy voice. That's what Spanish women her age sound like."

I filed this away in my mental "cross-cultural reflections" folder...

*****

Years later, I worked in corporate training and focused on women's professional development programs. Of all the topics I designed trainings for, communication was by far the most popular. (I'd average 30% higher attendance for any topic related to "how to sound like a leader" as compared to other topics like "mentoring" or "networking.") Clearly, communications skill building was in demand. 

What do you talk about in a training session on effective communication at work? 

When you focus on women in the workplace, it's a complex and nuanced topic (that's much more broad than this blog post), but the notion of pitch/tone is essential. In the U.S., in a professional setting, women are taken more seriously when they speak from the belly, vs. the throat. High-pitched voices are either filtered out, dismissed, or lose credibility. They may read "too emotional."

As I hear the occasional international news interview with women from around the world, I think about how, culture by culture, women are socialized to speak with a certain pitch. High-pitched voices may be considered sweet and feminine in some cultures, whereas raspy, deep voices may be feminine in others. We are socialized to learn what's right. Perhaps by our mothers and sisters. Perhaps at a training session at work. 

In a news interview, what's the impact of a soundbite of a woman who sounds shrill? 

How does this shape the viewer's opinion of the woman's point of view? To what extent does it detract from her credibility? 

How does the sound of the women's comment impact our opinion on the particular issue the news story is covering? (Or...extrapolating a little...on how we view politics? On how we vote?) 

I have a couple early childhood memories of judging others based on language:

• An older cousin married a guy from the South, and he called a supermarket "cart" a "buggy"
• My Canadian cousins use the terms "washroom" for "bathroom," and "variety store" for "convenience store"

These people were all speaking English, and overall we didn't have trouble understanding one another. The differences were subtle; however, as a child, I quickly picked up on them. It was just enough "data" for young me to make the assessment: WEIROs! 

As an adult whose work has focused on fostering intercultural communication, it's embarrassing to admit to the fact that these small language differences caused me to feel some distance from these otherwise lovely people. I knew that I spoke correctly. I thought they used some kind of low-fidelity copy of my language. And I thought they were missing something. I asked myself, What's wrong with them? How is it that they don't know the *right* words? 

(Clearly, I was missing a big piece of the story as it relates to the many regional varieties of English, and all the glorious diversity of accents, words, and grammar. I was also missing perspective on diversity dynamics...fortunately, that would come later in life!)

These examples are personal to me, but perhaps you have a similar example? 

The most striking examples of prejudice can show up when we interact with "others" who are, on the surface, not that different from ourselves. (My cousins share my DNA. They speak English. We have the same last name.) Based on my expectations and assumptions, (e.g., I thought we'd "speak the same language"), I felt discomfort with the differences that showed up in our everyday interactions. 

What similar experiences can you share?

The past few "greeters" I've encountered as I've walked into big stores have not greeted me. I've initiated the greeting. Just seems odd!

"Best regards, Sonia" might be a typical way to close an email. but if it's done in purple font, and in script, what might this say about the sender?

My workplace is corporate and very conservative. (You don't see men wearing crazy ties much less women in sassy earrings.) 

Yet, every once in a while, I will get an email with a "fun" signature. I have to admit: I usually pause and pass judgment on the person.  

I wonder if I am the only stick in the mud who thinks this sort of "flourish" is risky when it comes to keeping up a professional persona, i.e., your own "brand" at work? To me, it's the email equivalent of wearing dangly, light-up earrings on a day when you have a client meeting. In sum, it's not a good idea if you want to be taken seriously.

Deborah Tannen talks about how women can't simply dress for work, but instead, women always convey a certain "look," e.g., sophisticated, conservative, sexy, etc. In getting dressed, women have many choices to make, from shoes to accessories to hair style. There are several variables at play here, and each conveys a ton of meaning. She calls this "marked."

(For more on the notion of "marked"/"unmarked," read this article: The New York Times Magazine, June 20, 1993. "Wears Jump Suit. Sensible Shoes. Uses Husband's Last Name." Originally titled "Marked Women, Unmarked Men" by Deborah Tannen)

Back to the email signature. A purple signature is "marked" in much the same way. The default ("unmarked") is to keep your signature in black/white and an "unmarked" font, e.g., Arial, or whatever the body of the email is in. At best, it's a "fun" flourish, at worst, it could take away from your image as a professional.

(As an aside, I am learning about the field of information visualization. It encompasses graphic design, brain science, and communication. I wonder if there's some research in this field that could explain my prejudice against the purple, scripty signature?)

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! 

Want to play that game where I say something, and you have to tell me where we are? 

It's easy, I promise. Here we go.

"...items may have shifted during flight." 

Where could we be? Only one possible answer, right? On a plane!

Okay, now, who's talking? The flight attendant! Of course! 

You can probably even tell me that he/she is making an announcement, to all passengers, over the loud speaker. 

How is it that you can quickly situate this short fragment of a sentence in place and time?

Ah, the magic of "jargon." Whether you feel "jargon" has a negative connotation, or whether it's simply defined as "lingo" familiar to a group or organization, such as a business or profession, you need to only take one flight or see one TV sit com filmed on an airplane, and you recognize this familiar warning to passengers. You can likely also rattle off a few more. Give it a try! Why not!?

(What did you come up with? How about, "I will walk around to collect any 'service items.'" Who says that? 'Service items?' Really?)

So, why do we care about jargon? What "work" does it do? 

If you are a flight attendant, you are part of the airline's culture, and perhaps certain expressions are tailor-made to suit the job. If you are a passenger, you may find it part of the experience of flying to hear this kind of "jargon." Just as you may expect a gondolier to sing to you when you travel to Venice. Of course, you also may find it irksome. For sure, jargon is the butt of many jokes - whether you are in the organization (and proficient in the jargon) or not.

My first semester in graduate school (in a linguistics program), I tackled a research problem that had fascinated me for years. I was interested in finding out what my coworkers attitudes were toward the "jargon" at work, and, more importantly, I wanted to know (as a young professional with some serious ambition!) whether mastering "jargon" (and using it A LOT) was somehow conflated with exuding executive presence.

I needed data...I surveyed over 100 coworkers about "our lingo." The high (over 80%) participation rate in the survey signaled just how exciting this topic was (and is) at work! In trying to gauge *attitudes* toward jargon, I asked participants to indicate whether the jargon they hear/see is used mostly by themselves or others. The answer, OTHERS. My sampling was a group of people from my own social network at work. Otherwise, it was a mixed group by level, team, and tenure. I wondered if somehow *I* attracted people who decidedly did not use jargon. Was I work friends with a bunch of purists?! How could it be? Or, did they not want to admit to it?! 

We certainly are not going to resolve this in one blog post. But I do invite you, in the spirit of smooth communications and building awareness of your own communication style...to take note of your own expressions. Is there any work jargon that you use with customers? Or outside of work settings? If so, what's the impact on others? Misunderstandings? A little levity? Or do they "get it" and feel included and cozy for understanding it? Or do you, with one small phrase or expression, set yourself apart...and push them out?

Everyone expresses politeness in their own way. We do it everyday in conversation. Phrases like "please" and "thank you" can certainly lubricate the social experience, but there are endless ways to layer any conversation with politeness, and we can get quite creative depending on the type of conversation, who we are talking to, how we we know each other, power dynamics, etc.

Lately, I've been hearing a lot of, "actually," followed by, "you're wrong..."

A couple examples:

Sonia: Excuse me, is this the way to the library?
Helpful student: Actually, you need to take the next street.

or

Sonia: Can I return this at any time, if I save the receipt?
Salesperson: Actually, that's a final sale item.

I am now looking out for "actually" as a gentle word that *points* to the correction, or the phrase that sets the record straight. For a little word, it does a lot of work. It softens the blow (to come), e.g., the "you're wrong," and helps you prepare to "hear" what's next, e.g., the "correct" info that you have to hold onto. I wonder if it's the new "please" and "thank you?"

I love traveling for a lot of reasons, but in particular, leaving home and getting out of my daily routine teaches me so much about myself, and gives me time and space to reflect on what I take for granted as "normal."

After 15+ years in Washington, D.C., and regularly "swiping" my Metro card, I was surprised to "dip" it in Chicago. Not only do the official (posted) instructions advise train passengers to "dip" their cards, but a Station Manager reinforced the term when I asked him for help, as did this Chicago Tribune article.

To my delight, my opportunities to use the word "dip" have expanded! There's now more to "dip" than my toe in a swimming pool or a soft-serve ice cream cone into warm chocolate.

I wonder if there's a linguist doing field research in train stations across the U.S. -- preparing to design a "dip vs. swipe" map similar to this "pop vs. soda" map? (Or maybe "swipe" is a D.C. Metro thing?)