Some days, I really can relate to the woman in the popular 1980s Wendy’s commercial who lifts up the top half of the bun,  leans in closely, adjusts her glasses, and wonders, 

​As a communications consultant, I write things people don’t want to or can’t. Some of the time, that means that I will connect with a client, jot down notes about what’s on their mind, ask some questions for clarity, and put a draft on paper. 
 
A lot of the time, however, I am creating content. Figuring out what needs to be said, and putting the words on paper. A client will say, “We need to get a message out.” The message is the bun, and it’s my job to make the patty. 

While this is an intuitive process, these three questions guide me:

1. What’s the point? – What needs to be communicated? Is there a new thing to share?
2. What’s the context? – How much background does the audience need? 
3. What’s the ask? – What action is required and is the deadline clear? 

If you tend to agonize over writing or simply don't know how to get started, remember these questions. You'll have your 'beef' in no time.

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?
​
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.

“When I had children, we didn’t have all this stuff. It’s become all too complicated.” My early days as a mother are a blurr, and yet I remember this moment vividly. My mom, who’d raised four children and at that point had already been a grandmother for decades, revealed to me that she had no idea about motherhood today. How do you correctly install a carseat? How do you manage screentime? How do you use a bottle warmer? The job had evolved. We’d made it more complicated. Some of the innovations were for child safety or health, and some for convenience. Others for marketing. Babies are big business, after all.

​Work for us hasn’t changed all that much. We’ve been working from home for years. We’d pushed through the initial honeymoon period or shock—both reactions are possible when initially transitioning to telework—and we’d settled into a good, solid work-from-home routine years ago. In the past year due to the COVID-19 pandemic, many others made an abrupt shift to working from home, without much planning or preparation. Compounded with the stresses of the pandemic, it’s been rough.

But it’s been rough for us veteran telecommuters, too. We explored why. We came up with a hypothesis. Maybe with the rush to connect and simulate the in-person interactions, we have made it all too complicated. 
 
Working from home was not nearly as exhausting before—you guessed it—Zoom. To be fair, it’s Zoom, Teams, whatever. Meeting on the phone (audio only) is way easier than videoconferencing. Here’s what I heard:
 
I've been telecommuting for 18 years. I used to walk all the time while on my calls. I cannot do that when required to take notes and also be on camera. 
 
I am fidgety, and I need to move around when I am working. I used to be able to do that.
 
On video calls, I feel like I am chained to my desk. When on conference calls, I can fold laundry or walk around and Swiff the floors. In a way it helps me concentrate. 

We have all done some personal reflection on this topic, and it’s been analyzed extensively. We’ve read about Zoom fatigue, the particular challenges of uncertainty, etc. Movement is indeed one of the issues. But there are others, including needing to manage your face. Yes, Zoom (and our politeness expectations) forces you to fake a smile. Vignesh Ramachandran's article from Stanford explains it well. There’s lots of brain science to explain our exhaustion. 

So what do we do with this knowledge? And why do I feel the need to pile onto the heap of articles and blogs, when the topic has been discussed already? Well, it’s time to head back into the office. It’s time to start new habits. Let’s remember what my mom said and not make this too complicated. 

I’ve had an earworm the past few weeks: “When you’re smilin', the whole world smiles with you.” The song is in Louis Armstrong’s voice. I was thinking about what I miss most about “normal,” i.e., pre-pandemic, life. 
 
All things considered, one of the top things I miss is exchanging smiles with others. 
 
While research may show that a smile hidden behind a mask can still be ‘heard,’ in my experience, it’s muffled. 
 
This past year of wearing a mask in public has made me realize that I rely heavily on smiling to communicate with people I don’t know. Passing you on a sidewalk? I smile. Waiting at the corner to cross a street? I smile. Expertly zig-zagging in a grocery store? I smile. 
 
It’s as important to communication as words. And it’s been silenced. To compensate, I find myself talking (i.e., a quick "hi") when I don’t want to. Smiles are the shortest, most to-the-pointest exchanges ever. So efficient. So warm. I miss them.
 
And P.S. research tells us the song is true. 

Coronavirus and COVID-19 are not the same thing.

Are you using the terms interchangeably?

(Yikes. I was!)

Coronavirus (also novel Coronavirus, SARS-CoV-2) is the virus; COVID-19 is the disease.

(Like HIV is the virus; AIDS is the disease.)

My email inbox is full of invitations to "Buy now and save."

​Since when does spending lead to saving?

A lot of marketing is based on the premise that "spending less" = saving. But I think of saving as the absence of spending. Since when can I feel good about spending now so I can save?

Server: Do you have any questions about the menu today?

Sonia: I see the scallops come with a "blt," and the "blt" is in quotes. Is this BLT (Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato), or something inspired by the original, such as, Brats, Lochs, and Tofu?"

This is an actual question I posed our server Saturday. He was not sure why I was puzzled. I was not sure why there were quotation marks around "blt." 

Yes, I had to edit the menu before I could order. It happens a lot. It's often a question of punctuation or spelling. 

(It was an actual BLT, in case you were concerned.)

(And don't you want to edit the photo above so it reads "today's?")

​Few things raise self awareness of your own communication style as quickly as hearing your toddler express herself. I have been tuned into language most of my life, and this is one of the greatest delights of motherhood for me.

How many times a week do I think to myself, "Where did she learn that?" "Do I say that?" or "Is that what I sound like?"

Sometimes, for example when big sister is consoling little sister in a kind and gentle way, I am pleased by what I hear. At other times, for example when there are a lot of forceful, "No! No! No's!," I cringe! 

As my older daughter (3.5 years old) is developing her communication (and storytelling) style, I am tuning in to see if I can begin to hear what our "family" communication style is. (Fortunately, it's nothing like hearing a recording of my voice!) 

What has listening to your children taught you about how you communicate?

​

This post by A Cup of Jo presents a wonderful way to teach children how to jump into a conversation without interrupting. When you start out studying language and discourse analysis, you often look to children--and pay attention to when they "disrupt"--to identify the "hidden" rules of conversation. Certainly, knowing when to jump in and take a turn at talk is a skill we are not born with. With time (and some nudges from mom and dad, etc.), we learn to listen for the context, the non verbals, etc., and eventually we get it. Most of the time in a conversation, only one person is talking. Thanks to A Cup of Jo for the great tip!

“Okay, love you, bye.”

He hung up the phone, and realized he’d just professed his love to a CLIENT! This is a true story, as told by my friend Ron, about a colleague at work. (Perhaps it’s happened to you?)

For many, “I love you,” is conversation closer. It works like, “Goodbye!” It has its place at the end of many phone conversations or short discussions. It sends a little love.  It wraps things up. It works beautifully, as long as it’s not misdirected (i.e., to a client). That misdirection can happen when “love you” becomes routine—when “love you” fills the same conversational place as “bye,” a word with a lot less heart.

While I love spreading love, I urge you, in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, to put the meaning (and heart) back into these precious words. At least for your Valentine...Agreed?

(P.S. I don’t know how Ron’s colleague resolved things with his client. As my friend tells the story, it ends with ridicule from the cubicle-mates who were within earshot of the gaffe.)

Years ago, I worked for a U.S. university study abroad program in Madrid. Living abroad—if you do it right—pushes you out of your comfort zone and makes you ache for the familiar. You learn about your creature comforts, your quirks, and your hot buttons. And that’s where you grow.

In that job, my primary role was to keep students feeling safe enough that they could dare to “do it right,” that is, be adventurous and go exploring, try new foods and hobbies—and journal, talk through, and process the experience…so they could learn. (It was study abroad, after all.) As a general rule, I talked in terms of ‘cultural values,’ ‘practices,’ and history. I didn’t make lists of cultural dos/don’ts….However, there were a few dos/don’ts we taught students right away:

1. If you’re handed a fork and knife with your croissant (or sandwich, or other item you’d put in the ‘finger-food’ category), use them to eat it.
   
2. If someone approaches you for the two-cheek kiss, follow along. Yes, even if it’s at a job (in their case, internship) interview.
   
3. Don’t clap along with the dancers in a flamenco show. Save your clapping for after the song is over.
   

In flamenco, the dancer is part of the band. With his/her stomping/clapping, he/she is the percussion. If eager tourists get carried away and clap along with the dancers, they can redirect the song. Tuning into this cultural norm about ‘when to clap’ is not so much a cultural do/don’t. It’s about knowing how to communicate. It’s about knowing when you’re part of the conversation vs. a ratified listener. 

When you’re a child and speak out of turn, you might get shushed. In those instances, you’re a ratified listener, and you probably don’t know how to sense when it’s your turn to speak. After years of coaching on how to get a word in edgewise, children figure it out. We all do, eventually. As a tourist at your first flamenco show, you might not think to follow the locals’ lead. Or the house may be packed with tourists. If that’s the case, where do you get your cue?

 **Click here to visit the Corporate B.S. Generator (image above).**

Every community has its lingo. 

(If you don't believe me, just ear hustle on a group of teenagers the next time you are in line at the movies. Assuming you're not a teenager yourself, you may just learn a word or two!)

Nonetheless, making fun of "in-group" language, whether you call it jargon or slang, is a common human reaction. Why? Noticing how *others* talk helps us (in turn) identify *ourselves.* 

Our ability to draw on "different ways" of speaking helps us build relationships. Depending on who you're talking to, and what the setting is, you can "play up" certain phraseology or pronunciation in order to send the meta message that, "I'm like you" or "I get you." Linguists study how we "style shift" depending on who we are speaking to, and depending on the context of the conversation. We vary our style all the time. It's part of being "successful" in life. If you address a police officer who has pulled you over for speeding in the same way that you console a fussy baby, you might provoke a misunderstanding...or worse! 

My first semester of grad school, I wrote a paper on corporate jargon. In the years prior, I had taken notes during business meetings, as I noticed "new" phrases and words that I associated with the "corporate world," the "management consulting world," or the "world of government contracting." My anecdotal observation was that, the higher you climbed the corporate ladder, the more "strong" your corporate "accent." I was desperately curious to find out if there was a correlation between being "proficient" in jargon and career success.

So, I designed a short survey to investigate...Nearly ninety colleagues, at all levels in the organization, responded to questions designed to
1. Gauge their attitudes toward the "jargon"
2. Invite them to identify words/phrases they associated with "our lexicon"
3. Determine which happened more often: Did they use the jargon more than others, or did others use it more than they did?

The project was therapy for me, and it turned out to be a huge empathy-fest for my colleagues/informants. The survey's high response rate (over 80%!) signaled to me that I was not the only one who was intrigued by this interesting phenomenon. The list of words and phrases and commentary signaled that I was not the only one who felt a certain dis-ease (or disgust!) with "our lexicon." 

The most interesting result was related to item number (3.) above: 83% of respondents indicated that it is their colleagues, not they themselves, who are using the jargon. There are many possible explanations for this result, including lack of self awareness, denial, and flaws with my survey sampling and survey design. 

What do you think?

Over time, words shift in meaning. Take the word "wireless," for example. It started out as a noun that means radio. Now, well, you know what wireless means.

As society, culture, and technology evolve, we sometimes need to stretch our words to describe the concepts in our world… Sometimes we innovate and coin new words. Sometimes we assign new meanings to--or rework the meanings of--"old" words.

Marketers can play on word meanings--and even provoke a word shift--with their clever messaging. Lately, I have been noticing the word "naked" used in a new way, for example:

• "Naked Juice" is "Naked. Nothing to hide."
• Stacy's Pita Chips are "Simply naked, with nothing but sea salt."
  

As a marketing word, "naked" is certainly an attention grabber! While the meaning used to be more narrow (e.g., limited to "naked body" or "the naked truth"), it's expanded to fill a gap in our whole foods vocabulary. Now, "naked" means pure, uncoated, natural. 

How else will we use starting using it?

For more on language change, read: http://www.bbc.co.uk/voices/yourvoice/language_change2.shtml

What does American English sound like to someone who doesn't speak English? 

Prisencolinensinainciusol, a song by Italian Adriano Celentano, answers that question. Take a look at the video. What do you hear?

Inspired by the theme of "incomprehension," Celentano composed this song using the sounds of American English--and some actual English words--in a jumbled, nonsensical way. The result is a glimpse at what we sound like to someone who can't understand us.

When it came out in the early 1970s, the song was a big hit in Europe.  For more background, listen to this NPR Interview with Celentano (November, 2012). 

It's been a while since I was surrounded by people I could not communicate with. Does the song make you recall a time when you struggled to make yourself understood?

Many thanks to Maria Checchia-Ciazza for this Guest Post: 

You want to stop conversation at a party? Tell someone you’re a stay-at-home mom (SAHM). Unless the person you’re speaking to is a SAHM herself, you’ll get one, maybe two weak questions back, such as, “How old are your kids?” Then, the person politely excuses him/herself to go grab another drink.

Why? Because a SAHM just sounds so darn boring!

First, there were "housewives," then "homemakers." And it was only in the early 1990s, when women rightly objected to both of those because they made raising children more about the home than the kids, did we start using the term “stay-at-home mom.”  To me, all these terms feel like a kick in the pants.

Is there a way to describe mothers and their relationship with the paid workforce without insulting them?

Stay-at-home mother? “Most of them are never home. Spend hours as unpaid taxi drivers!”

Working mother? “Of course, we are working every minute of every day!”

Non-working mother? “Seriously? No sick days allowed!”

Full-time mother? “How can you clock your hours?  Whether I am at home or work, I am always a mother!”

Here’s another thought.  How about the fact that society never feels the need to “label” fathers with “working” terms?

I would suggest that a replacement term has to meet two criteria. First, that it apply to men as well as women. Second, that it include those who are parents and those who are not. Our social ideal should be a work/life model where everyone shapes a career that includes times where we work full-force and times when we kick back, and our words should be consistent with that. They should embrace the sense of ebb and flow, more and less that are the truth of most of our lives, rather than the stop and start, one or the other, that are unrealistically divisive.

Aren’t we, as a culture, free to come up with a new word to refer to stay-at-home parents?  Here are some I've heard:   “domestic goddess,”  “primary caregiver,”  and “domestic engineer.”

Maybe, we should simply change the term SAHM and make it the French, “C’est une mere chez soi.”

Whatever the term, it’s past time we find one.  Any suggestions? 

I was headed to Italy with a dear friend who had never been to Europe. "I've heard a lot about gelato," she said. "What flavors do they have? Just chocolate and vanilla, or other flavors?"

Her questions reminded me that chocolate and vanilla are the standard, "basic" flavors you find in the U.S. A small ice cream shop might only have those two options, and you'd expect a larger shop to offer chocolate and vanilla (by default) plus other options.

More deeply, my friend's questions made me reflect on what's "standard" or "plain"--and how that's culturally-bounded. 

In the U.S., we refer to something as "plain vanilla" to indicate the option that has little embellishment or elaboration. For example, a "plain vanilla" outfit, car, or house is the simplest version offered. As an expression, "plain vanilla" holds a lot of cultural meaning. 

Incidentally, in Italy, you're just as likely to encounter a small gelato shop that offers sour cherry, hazelnut, or nougat as you are to see "plain" chocolate. Vanilla, on the other hand, is pretty exotic. The standard, "unmarked" base flavor is "gelato alla crema," made with milk, sugar, and egg. Vanilla, as an aroma, is as noteworthy in Italy as rosewater or orange blossom would be in the U.S. 

(Needless to say, my friend and I both enjoyed all the flavors we tried!)

What expressions do you use that reveal your cultural frame or bias? How might these expressions translate across cultures? What do they reveal about your expectations of "how things should always be?"

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.)

Years ago, we invited my uncle and family to dinner. The meal was delicious. My mom is an excellent cook.

My uncle commented that the meal was “restaurant style,” and my mom took offense. Was it a compliment? What did he mean by “restaurant style?”

At the time, no one asked him to clarify, and, years later, the family debate on the topic (still) sounds like this:

·      My mom is certain that her brother was not impressed. To my mom, a home cook takes care to prepare a meal with respect for quality and tradition; whereas, restaurants “throw things on a plate” to turn a profit.

·      I (and others) suspect he was complimenting the meal (at best) or inferring that the dishes were new or different (at worst). In Italy, restaurants are places where you’re introduced to a new flavor or a fresh spin on a traditional dish. You eat out to enjoy something you cannot (or would not) make yourself.

We’ll never know for sure if this was a cross-cultural misunderstanding or the case of an ungrateful guest.

How could a brother and sister have such a misunderstanding?

My mom grew up in Italy, but has lived in the U.S. for over fifty years. Her brother has lived in Italy his whole life.  They see each other infrequently, when my family visits Italy.

It’s possible that the cultural lens through which each of them is filtering the term “restaurant style” is different. I suspect that my mom’s cooking skills don’t factor into the discussion at all. It’s all about the cultural value you attribute to restaurants and eating out.

Clearly, there’s mixed opinion on the topic.

In the U.S., marketers play to both camps—those of us who wish we could prepare a meal as well as our favorite restaurants do, and those of us who long for home-cooked meals. A quick walk down any grocery store aisle will display some products boasting “home style” and others promising “restaurant style.”  

Which is your bias? How might it influence your shopping choices? Or your comments to a gracious host?

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!