Society’s latest pariahs?

DifferentBeing a wordsmith by profession, I perhaps notice this more than I should. But it seems to me that there’s a lot of lazy writing and cliché that surrounds the issue of overweight and obesity in the press.

To start with, there’s the fashionable catch-all term – the obese – that apparently offensive group of people who have had the audacity to over-indulge and now make disproportionate use of free health services and take up too much room on trains and aeroplanes. The default position of the media fat-haters is indignation: How dare the obese eat so greedily, and lean so heavily on services paid for by our taxes, and inconvenience us so intrusively with their overflowing flesh?

That’s the obese… but then, there’s the morbidly obese – an even more loathsome lump of offending flesh; those of us so apparently devoid of the capacity for self-regulation that we’re actually killing ourselves.

There are other lazy clichés adopted by the media too.  Who hasn’t read those stories about overeaters stuffing themselves with food, piling on the pounds, or ballooning to a hefty weight?

The effect of this lazy writing is to depersonalise the enormous (pardon the pun) and diverse population of individuals whose size is above the ideal range, turning them into a single amorphous blob of uncontrolled indulgence; a blob on which it is apparently now acceptable to pour scorn and derision.

But… people whose weight exceeds what society deems a ‘normal’ range are not a clutch of cholesterol-laden clones.

We may chuckle when we get together, about our inability to eat just one chocolate, or our fondness for a takeaway, but we’re all different. Not every fat person loves McDonalds and KFC; we don’t all pig-out, lonely and friendless, in front of the TV every night; we don’t all pass the time shovelling our faces full of donuts – in fact most of us don’t do anything remotely like that. We don’t all sit on our ample arses all day long; we don’t all get puffed out climbing the stairs. Some of us even like salad!

We’re individuals, with a multitude of different issues, challenges and histories; a variety of health concerns – or none at all; a spectrum of self-awareness and psychology; a diversity of shapes and sizes, ages and genders, ethnicities, social backgrounds, educational accomplishments, intellects and achievements.

Like many, many people – possibly every single person in the entire world – we have let one aspect of our life run some way beyond acceptable boundaries.

Some people smoke, others drink to excess. Some gamble their wages away, others take chances with anonymous sexual partners. Some didn’t apply themselves at school, others never go to the dentist. Some can’t get through a day without a few puffs of weed, others can’t get through an evening without a few glasses of red. Some go crazy when separated from their mobile phones, others can’t separate themselves from their virtual realities. Some people can’t throw anything away, others need their CDs in alphabetical order and their pencils all lined up.

We all have challenges, weaknesses, shortcomings and areas of our lives where we’re not at our very best. For those wearing weight above what society deems ‘normal’ – a part of that will have something to do with food.

That is it. The end.

Big Word of the Day: Autoethnographic

Letter A

In honour of Carrie Rubin’s post today about use of Big Words, may I present to you, my Big Word of the Day:


Self-reflective writing that explores the writer/researcher’s personal experience and connects this autobiographical story to wider cultural, political, and social meanings and understandings.

I readily confess, as I don’t believe it will betray me as an ignoramus, that today is the first time I have ever encountered this magnificent word. It has, I believe, rather more to do with research than writing, but I have fallen in love with it anyway.

So I just  had to share it.

When ‘Sorry’ just isn’t Enough

A sentence that begins with the words, ‘I’m sorry…’ isn’t always an apology.

flower-316437_1280My car, still under warranty and with less than 5,000 miles on the clock, developed what I now understand to be a known fault. The manufacturer (four letters, beginning with F… yes, that other word crossed my mind too) has, it’s entirely fair to say, not been in the least bit helpful.

The manufacturer’s customer service contact centre seems to have scant interest in providing actual customer service and their repertoire of customer care messaging is correspondingly sparse. As the debate over my vehicle developed over several phone calls and I patiently outlined my grievance again and again, I noticed that every response began, with the obstinacy of a stuck record, with the words: “I’m sorry that you feel this way…”

As a wordsmith and professional marketer, I’m alert to the scenario. You know, when what someone appears to say isn’t what they’re actually saying. That’s when words are intended not for clarity, but for misdirection.

It’s everywhere in sales and marketing messages. Take, for example, where savings or performance improvement statistics are presented with those little words, up to. See up to 50% improvement… get up to 85% off… that sort of thing. Then there are those unlimited contracts which, in the small print are actually limited by something called a ‘fair use policy’. And there’s the subtle difference between the words flavour and flavoured – did you know that one? If something is strawberry flavour, it will be packed with chemicals and not even the hint of a berry of any description. For real fruit content, it would have to be strawberry flavoured (as in, flavoured by an actual strawberry).

And then there’s… “I’m sorry that you feel this way…” It may sound like an apology, but it’s not.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way…” is a verbally vacuous, pointless, patronising platitude – nothing more.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way…” is the opposite of what I needed, which was an admission of responsibility and more importantly, ownership of the problem.

I hit a brick wall – no, not in my car thankfully, but with my efforts to get the manufacturer to own the problem. That was left to the dealer – and I’m very grateful they were prepared step-up where the manufacturer was not, delivering understanding, an acknowledgement of the underlying problem, a considered response and solutions instead of platitudes.

We have a way forward; it’s not ideal but I can live with it. It’s involved me in additional cost, which even I could see was unavoidable given the situation. But I’m a realist and it was the best way forward to liberate us both from a situation which the manufacturer – despite the internet being littered with tales of this model’s flawed mechanicals – seems unwilling to properly acknowledge.

Oh… but that reminds me of another word that doesn’t always mean quite what it should: Warranty

Corporate Doublethink

Since when did the definition of the word ‘unlimited’ change?

Endless roadUnlimited = limitless, infinite, boundless, indefinite, unrestricted…. so says just about any dictionary you care to reference.

Why then, do the Validation Certificates for my latest shiny new Ford Fiesta say “Unlimited mileage is to a maximum of 100,000 miles”?

Of course the missing word in this grammatically dubious sentence is… you guessed it, ‘limited’:  Unlimited mileage is… ahem… limited to a maximum of 100,000 miles.

I’m all for language evolving – new words being brought to life, outmoded grammar being laid to rest, but why the doublethink?  Either it’s unlimited, or it’s limited – n’est-ce pas?

In the bowels of corporate headquarters everywhere, there are people working on this repurposing of perfectly adequate language. Data contracts have adopted the same flexible interpretation of the word unlimited, coupling it with what they charmingly call a fair usage policy. That’s to say, ‘We’ll all pretend we’ve given you a totally unlimited download capacity, but you have to go careful now, don’t get too greedy, because you’ll try our patience and then we’ll cut you down just when you need us most’.

Another favourite of mine is that deceptive pairing of the words ‘up to’… as in, “Up to 80% off” (any and every high street furniture sale the length and breadth of the country), or “Up to 80Mbps” (my Broadband contract, which actually delivers about half this speed).  Cleverly deploying a size zero font, the corporate boffs imagine their customers are so stupid they won’t notice those microscopic letters.

When I’m not trying to be a novelist, I work freelance in marketing and copywriting.  So you might  imagine I’d be sympathetic to these attempts linguistic ambiguity.  But I’m not and that’s because I’m a consumer first and a Grumpy Old Woman second – and only then am I a marketer. And I don’t like the idea that the corporate world is out there reinventing language in an attempt to confuse and deceive.

If you have a favourite snippet of corporate doublethink, share it with us.

Cliches: Avoid them like … …

This writing business, it’s a roller coaster ride, up one minute, down the next. It’s been emotional and I’m struggling to come to terms with it. Some people think it’s as easy as pie and writers don’t have a care in the world. But you have to be tough as old boots and hard as nails to suffer the slings and arrows and weather the storm. You have to think outside the box, have nerves of steel, take the rough with the smooth and above all, don’t let it get you down.

You may get out of bed the wrong side and feel like a bear with a sore head some days, but you’ve got to keep on keeping on, because at the end of the day, it’s down to you. It is what it is and if there’s no pain, there’s no gain. Just don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

But keep your chin up. Every cloud has a silver lining and every dog has its day. What goes around comes around, and time heals all wounds. In the grand scheme of things you’ll live to fight another day.

Let them eat cake

cakeIt’s a whole new linguistic world out there on Tuesday evening telly.

I’m loving Great British Bake Off (I’m finally on-board after poo-poohing it for three series).  And I’m deeply into series two of Top Boy too.  For those of you not in the know, Great British Bake Off is, basically, a baking competition, executed in a sunny marquee bursting with pansy-scattered aprons and chocolate sprinkles. By significant contrast, Top Boy has been labelled The Wire for Brits.  I’m not sure I agree, but it’s very good – hard-core narrative, compelling characters, dark places and lots of gritty, visceral action.

So, without further ado, and not for the first time, I’ll confess to a split personality.

But my two favourite Tuesday night programmes have presented me with a mini linguistic conundrum. At 8 o’clock on Great British Bake Off dough is used to make bread.  But an hour down the schedule on Top Boy they’ve said a fierce farewell to the traditional ‘crooks and drugs’ slang for money – that would be, um…,  dough or bread.   Money is now apparently paper.  And as for drugs, well, that’s apparently food.  Which, if nothing else, brings us back to bread, I suppose.

But I can guess what you’re going to ask.  Where would that gritty ‘crooks and drugs’ film, Layer Cake, fit in with all this?

A geographical thesaurus

I’m a lover of words and a keen if infrequent traveller. So this story in the Travel section of the Telegraph caught my eye:

Bland reaches out to Dull and Boring – The Australian town of Bland Shire is looking to cash in on its uninteresting name by establishing links with the village of Dull in Scotland and Boring in Oregon.

It’s just a little story, I know, but it made me smile. These towns would seem to be united not only by their ‘mutually mundane monikers’ (I wish I’d thought of that – but it’s in the piece), but by their sense of fun and their ability to spot the opportunity and see the positive.

The same story is reported here in the Sydney Morning Herald. Accompanying it is a truly stunning – and not in the least bland – picture taken on Lake Cowal in Bland Shire. Worth checking out if you like your sun-on-water landscapes