A Cut to the Chase(an Introduction)
Excerpt from "The $10,000 Apostrophe"
By Nora Firestone
Copyright 2012
By Nora Firestone
Copyright 2012
The Seeds of Nuttiness
The back seat of our family car rumbled as if growling on my behalf. There, just outside my window, loomed two signs: one sported the spelling drive-thru; another advertised donuts. I sat up for a reality check. Unbelievable. I brought the deviations to my mother’s attention, and she bestowed a sympathetic smile — the kind that buys a parent some time when she’s not prepared to answer a 9-year-old’s inquisition about the transgression of principles by her own peers.
“Well,” she began, seemingly braced to burst my bubble, “sometimes companies do that to make it easy for people to read their signs …”
What?! I wailed internally. They intentionally misspell words to make it easy for some people to read them? You mean to tell me that all these years I’ve been studying the correct spellings of hundreds or thousands of words because the adults in my life insist that I do, and here’s some other group of adults assuming that I can’t handle the concept of the silent –gh, that I’m not smart enough to spell these words correctly, and that a large enough percentage of their customers are too simple-minded to notice or care about their condescending shortcuts?!
Why would I want to buy anything from someone who assumes that I’m uneducated, that I couldn’t learn the spelling if I didn’t already know it, or that I can’t handle the truth?
What kind of business targets uneducated consumers?
What kind of business ditches principles so easily?
People who think that others can’t handle the truth are surely more inclined to lie to them, right?
And what other shortcuts are these business owners taking that I can’t see?
What other standards or principles do they think I’m willing to disregard?
This company thinks I’m ignorant and unprincipled! What an insult! Why would I choose to deal with anyone who thinks that of me?
Sure, I’m conveying those thoughts to you now a bit more articulately than I could have then, and I do address the tolerance by some of donut and drive-thru later in this book, but there you have my indelible introduction to the negative effects of company pander in messaging. Never underestimate the innate, automatic, logical thinking of a child. And don’t assume that everyone loses the inclination along the road to adulthood.
Flash forward to the early 1990s, or maybe earlier: I’d begun toting sign-correction tools such as Wite-Out (despite Bic’s choice of name spelling) and extra pens and markers, with which I’d assist store managers and others with free, unsolicited, impromptu public messaging edits — as much for my sake as for theirs. The most egregiously offensive print materials to arrive in my mailbox got edited too, if I had the time, and either returned to their senders with a friendly note or addressed respectfully in a brief phone call to the company. Some — dare I call them the smart ones? — appreciated it; others cocked heads, scrunched noses, rolled eyes, turned cheeks and disconnected calls.
At some point I’d ventured to assume that I couldn’t possibly be the only one who gets distracted (or worse) by flawed written and spoken ads and other public messages in business. Around the turn of the millennium I decided that it was worth communicating to others the effects that these flaws have on me. I quickly realized that I was not the only one being negatively influenced, but that most people who admitted being put off had simply become accustomed to staying quiet about their observations and the negative effects on them. Many were self-conscious, afraid they’d be perceived as too critical, obsessive or over the top in their reactions. Most considered it a waste of time to bring the offenses or oversights to the attention of the business owners, who they figured didn’t really care about offending or alienating anyone; after all, the businesses continued to propagate these error-riddled messages without regard for the senses of the public.
But I disagreed with that presumption. What business owner wants to be perceived as someone who doesn’t care about offending or alienating members of his or her target market? Surely a fair percentage of composers of public business messages would take the issue more seriously if they only knew better. I respected and understood that the rules of language are, for any number of reasons, more memorable and relevant to some than to others, and that a lack of depth of knowledge in this area does not necessarily translate to the inability to excel in other areas. A clothes designer, for instance, might be spot-on brilliant with cut, color, lines and a sewing machine, but may simply have forgotten the rules for apostrophe use that she’d only half-grasped 20 years ago. An outstanding dentist might make his patients feel like models by the time he’s finished treating them but not be able to construct a grammatically flawless 60-second radio ad if the life of his Waterpik depended upon it. A great personal fitness trainer might be able to whip a guy into Atlas’ shape within six months but not realize that “Bodybuilding” shouldn’t be capitalized in the middle of a sentence within the body of his website’s home-page message simply because he deems the word important.
The day in 2010 that I read about the release of “The Great Typo Hunt,” a book by Jeff Deck and Benjamin D. Herson that documented the pair’s cross-country trip in search of grammar, punctuation and spelling errors in public signage, I got so excited that I had to spread the word to friends and family. I wasn’t crazy! And if I was, I wasn’t alone! As for responses, suffice it to say that a meager few of us had enough excitement for the bunch.
Soon thereafter, I attended a fantastically entertaining reading and book-signing event by Deck and Herson at a bookstore in Virginia Beach, Va. Aside from how much I loved their presentation, two things stand out in my memory of this event: One was that a woman about my age rudely accused Deck, a professional editor and the more obsessive and perhaps prescriptive co-author, of being a “grammar snob”; the other was that I won a prize during one of several little quiz-like contests. What did I win? A handy little sign-correction kit, complete with a bottle of Wite-Out, permanent marker and a few other useful tools, almost identical to the one I’d already been carrying for more than a decade. What a great affirmation! Of what, it didn’t matter. (As for the woman who had accused Deck of snobbery, she’s lucky that the others in attendance were kind and poised enough not to openly charge her with numbskullery.)
I never read the book because our quests were so aligned that I didn’t want to be influenced by what Deck and Herson had written. I’d already started my own blog on the subject and it wouldn’t be long before I’d begin giving instructional presentations addressing the negative effects of flawed marketing messages on the company-consumer relationship, the material from which I’ve culled for the creation of this book. Nor have I read much of “Eats, Shoots and Leaves” by Lynne Truss, which a friend gave to me after she’d consumed it for all its beloved wit, wisdom and intellectual companionship. (I’ll read both of these books upon completion of “The $10,000 Apostrophe.”) But knowing that such books exist and get purchased affirms for me that people need and seek the professional insights and reminders about the rules of language that are essential for the proper communication of intended messages and the avoidance of the conveyance of unintended messages. As a professional writer and news reporter, lifelong do-it-yourselfer and full-blooded entrepreneur, I’ve also recognized an increasing need to take this information to the front lines of business communication, where bridges between businesses — especially those that can’t afford to employ professional writers or hire qualified marketing firms — and their consumer audiences have been deteriorating for years amid a rising flood of technology-enabled do-it-yourself marketing opportunities, unaccountable print and sign shops and the questionable mindset that haste makes paste (in other words, people are being coached or otherwise led to believe that it’s better to put anything out there and hope it sticks than to take the time to compose and distribute the right messages). “Brand awareness” is a primary goal, they say. But I disagree. Too many people are branding themselves as careless, offensive or, worst of all, ignorant. So I’m here to tell it like it is.
I know what members of the media and your target market really think of your written and spoken messages. And I’m here to help. In this book, I’ll clue you in with professional insights and instruction about how to avoid some of the most common errors in public business messages, why it’s essential to do so, and how to get those messages right. This book will get you thinking like a member of your target audience, writing more like a communications pro, understanding search-engine optimization, and being what I call media-friendly with your website copy, emails, ads, press releases, media outreach and expectations and more. The premise by which I’ve developed this book, and one that I hope you will quickly adopt, is this:
“Your written and spoken public messages should reflect the level of professionalism and attention to detail that people can expect to find in all other areas of your business.”
Print my quote if you’d like, and post it prominently wherever it is that you create your own messages. Let it be your guide, and know that I’m right there with you in the spirit of your success.
Unless otherwise noted or attributed, the enclosed thoughts, insights, analogies and tips are my own, shaped by decades of personal and professional observation, analysis and experience. Any (potential) similarities to the previously published works of others are strictly coincidental.
Caution: Stop reading for a moment and compartmentalize your ego. Resume when you’re ready to take nothing personally and have decided to be fearless and non-defensive as you read.
There’s a tricky line between being constructively direct and being offensive with criticism. But what’s more important than where that line was drawn is how the line is regarded.
In 1989 I worked in a little coffee shop in South Hempstead, N.Y., helping my friend Nick, who had recently purchased the business, with customer service and certain managerial tasks. Since I’d stopped growing, at a below-American-average height, I’d always weighed a lean 108 to 112 pounds — until that autumn when I ballooned by almost 20 percent of my total body weight, which on my small frame constituted a hefty acquisition.
One of the eatery’s longtime customers — a manly looking guy until he spoke in his signature effeminate Long Island gossip-queen manner (think Joan Rivers in a young Jackie Gleason’s body) — noted to me over coffee and a Newsday one morning that I “look like . . . like . . . like a baby elephant these days.” I turned for a longer-than-usual glance in the mirror along the back wall and realized that he was right.
Note that I absolutely oppose rude and embarrassing critiques of others’ appearances; such behavior can certainly impact a person in more discouraging and damaging ways than this man’s remark impacted me. But I’d processed this one within my brain’s logic file, which I keep open 24/7 for the proper handling and conversion of such odd occurrences. His rudeness was a reflection of him, not me.
Hmmm, OK, I mentally conceded. It didn’t occur to me to be offended by his comment. He was a friend, of sorts. He had simply stated the obvious. And, as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t incumbent upon him not to state the obvious; it was incumbent upon me to present what I wanted people to see.
Within the hour I reverted back to the reasonable eating habits that had served me well all my life. Having no physiological barriers to the challenge, I then dropped all the excess weight within a few weeks without any more effort than resuming consciousness of the choices I had and opting for the “right” ones. There was, in fact, a measurable difference to be made in choosing grapefruit instead of pancakes and syrup with my eggs for breakfast and substituting a small bowl of low-fat ice cream for the two servings of the fully enriched version that everyone else was eating to which I’d apparently grown accustomed.
Had my slightly obsessive and extremely direct friend not shared his observation, I might have gained another several pounds before recognizing the problem myself. The more excess weight I’d have gained, the more damage I’d have been doing to myself, and the more unnecessarily laborious that damage would have been to mitigate.
From the receiving end, how would it have helped me to react to his comment that day by leaving work in a fit of emotion and self-pity to be consoled by a hot-fudge sundae on the way home? Essentially I appreciated his frankness. Who cared about his intentions? That had nothing to do with me; I had no control over his mindset. And regardless of what I might have thought of the messenger or his delivery, the message was accurate. It wasn’t personal; it was a statement about the obvious. And even better: Given the knowledge, I could easily correct the issue.
Likewise, this book is nothing personal. It’s not a calling out of anyone who has ever made a grammatical error, misplaced an apostrophe or screamed at unsuspecting consumers in all capital letters. In fact, I encourage those with no baggage to disembark now. This book is a compilation of the following: statements about the obvious and the not-so-obvious; opinions and reactions of everyday consumers, some of whom are also professional writers, journalists, editors and marketers; real-life accounts of the negative effects of flawed public messages and unprofessional media outreach; and the knowledge, refreshers, tips and insights that, when heeded, provide the foundation and structure for good, clear and effective professional communication and consumer and media relations. This book is not based on years (or even hours) of scientific market research or psychological study; even my survey results are limited to the opinions and experiences of a finite number of respondents and do not represent a polling of every person living in the U.S.A. It is a jam-packed sharing of working, practical knowledge and expertise. I know what I know, and I cut to the chase.
By the way, I didn’t shed every element of the baby elephant syndrome as I trod my own path as a writer and business person. I retained two characteristics worth employing daily: big ears and thick skin. (wink)
Learn more about "The $10,000 Apostrophe" here.
“Well,” she began, seemingly braced to burst my bubble, “sometimes companies do that to make it easy for people to read their signs …”
What?! I wailed internally. They intentionally misspell words to make it easy for some people to read them? You mean to tell me that all these years I’ve been studying the correct spellings of hundreds or thousands of words because the adults in my life insist that I do, and here’s some other group of adults assuming that I can’t handle the concept of the silent –gh, that I’m not smart enough to spell these words correctly, and that a large enough percentage of their customers are too simple-minded to notice or care about their condescending shortcuts?!
Why would I want to buy anything from someone who assumes that I’m uneducated, that I couldn’t learn the spelling if I didn’t already know it, or that I can’t handle the truth?
What kind of business targets uneducated consumers?
What kind of business ditches principles so easily?
People who think that others can’t handle the truth are surely more inclined to lie to them, right?
And what other shortcuts are these business owners taking that I can’t see?
What other standards or principles do they think I’m willing to disregard?
This company thinks I’m ignorant and unprincipled! What an insult! Why would I choose to deal with anyone who thinks that of me?
Sure, I’m conveying those thoughts to you now a bit more articulately than I could have then, and I do address the tolerance by some of donut and drive-thru later in this book, but there you have my indelible introduction to the negative effects of company pander in messaging. Never underestimate the innate, automatic, logical thinking of a child. And don’t assume that everyone loses the inclination along the road to adulthood.
Flash forward to the early 1990s, or maybe earlier: I’d begun toting sign-correction tools such as Wite-Out (despite Bic’s choice of name spelling) and extra pens and markers, with which I’d assist store managers and others with free, unsolicited, impromptu public messaging edits — as much for my sake as for theirs. The most egregiously offensive print materials to arrive in my mailbox got edited too, if I had the time, and either returned to their senders with a friendly note or addressed respectfully in a brief phone call to the company. Some — dare I call them the smart ones? — appreciated it; others cocked heads, scrunched noses, rolled eyes, turned cheeks and disconnected calls.
At some point I’d ventured to assume that I couldn’t possibly be the only one who gets distracted (or worse) by flawed written and spoken ads and other public messages in business. Around the turn of the millennium I decided that it was worth communicating to others the effects that these flaws have on me. I quickly realized that I was not the only one being negatively influenced, but that most people who admitted being put off had simply become accustomed to staying quiet about their observations and the negative effects on them. Many were self-conscious, afraid they’d be perceived as too critical, obsessive or over the top in their reactions. Most considered it a waste of time to bring the offenses or oversights to the attention of the business owners, who they figured didn’t really care about offending or alienating anyone; after all, the businesses continued to propagate these error-riddled messages without regard for the senses of the public.
But I disagreed with that presumption. What business owner wants to be perceived as someone who doesn’t care about offending or alienating members of his or her target market? Surely a fair percentage of composers of public business messages would take the issue more seriously if they only knew better. I respected and understood that the rules of language are, for any number of reasons, more memorable and relevant to some than to others, and that a lack of depth of knowledge in this area does not necessarily translate to the inability to excel in other areas. A clothes designer, for instance, might be spot-on brilliant with cut, color, lines and a sewing machine, but may simply have forgotten the rules for apostrophe use that she’d only half-grasped 20 years ago. An outstanding dentist might make his patients feel like models by the time he’s finished treating them but not be able to construct a grammatically flawless 60-second radio ad if the life of his Waterpik depended upon it. A great personal fitness trainer might be able to whip a guy into Atlas’ shape within six months but not realize that “Bodybuilding” shouldn’t be capitalized in the middle of a sentence within the body of his website’s home-page message simply because he deems the word important.
The day in 2010 that I read about the release of “The Great Typo Hunt,” a book by Jeff Deck and Benjamin D. Herson that documented the pair’s cross-country trip in search of grammar, punctuation and spelling errors in public signage, I got so excited that I had to spread the word to friends and family. I wasn’t crazy! And if I was, I wasn’t alone! As for responses, suffice it to say that a meager few of us had enough excitement for the bunch.
Soon thereafter, I attended a fantastically entertaining reading and book-signing event by Deck and Herson at a bookstore in Virginia Beach, Va. Aside from how much I loved their presentation, two things stand out in my memory of this event: One was that a woman about my age rudely accused Deck, a professional editor and the more obsessive and perhaps prescriptive co-author, of being a “grammar snob”; the other was that I won a prize during one of several little quiz-like contests. What did I win? A handy little sign-correction kit, complete with a bottle of Wite-Out, permanent marker and a few other useful tools, almost identical to the one I’d already been carrying for more than a decade. What a great affirmation! Of what, it didn’t matter. (As for the woman who had accused Deck of snobbery, she’s lucky that the others in attendance were kind and poised enough not to openly charge her with numbskullery.)
I never read the book because our quests were so aligned that I didn’t want to be influenced by what Deck and Herson had written. I’d already started my own blog on the subject and it wouldn’t be long before I’d begin giving instructional presentations addressing the negative effects of flawed marketing messages on the company-consumer relationship, the material from which I’ve culled for the creation of this book. Nor have I read much of “Eats, Shoots and Leaves” by Lynne Truss, which a friend gave to me after she’d consumed it for all its beloved wit, wisdom and intellectual companionship. (I’ll read both of these books upon completion of “The $10,000 Apostrophe.”) But knowing that such books exist and get purchased affirms for me that people need and seek the professional insights and reminders about the rules of language that are essential for the proper communication of intended messages and the avoidance of the conveyance of unintended messages. As a professional writer and news reporter, lifelong do-it-yourselfer and full-blooded entrepreneur, I’ve also recognized an increasing need to take this information to the front lines of business communication, where bridges between businesses — especially those that can’t afford to employ professional writers or hire qualified marketing firms — and their consumer audiences have been deteriorating for years amid a rising flood of technology-enabled do-it-yourself marketing opportunities, unaccountable print and sign shops and the questionable mindset that haste makes paste (in other words, people are being coached or otherwise led to believe that it’s better to put anything out there and hope it sticks than to take the time to compose and distribute the right messages). “Brand awareness” is a primary goal, they say. But I disagree. Too many people are branding themselves as careless, offensive or, worst of all, ignorant. So I’m here to tell it like it is.
I know what members of the media and your target market really think of your written and spoken messages. And I’m here to help. In this book, I’ll clue you in with professional insights and instruction about how to avoid some of the most common errors in public business messages, why it’s essential to do so, and how to get those messages right. This book will get you thinking like a member of your target audience, writing more like a communications pro, understanding search-engine optimization, and being what I call media-friendly with your website copy, emails, ads, press releases, media outreach and expectations and more. The premise by which I’ve developed this book, and one that I hope you will quickly adopt, is this:
“Your written and spoken public messages should reflect the level of professionalism and attention to detail that people can expect to find in all other areas of your business.”
Print my quote if you’d like, and post it prominently wherever it is that you create your own messages. Let it be your guide, and know that I’m right there with you in the spirit of your success.
Unless otherwise noted or attributed, the enclosed thoughts, insights, analogies and tips are my own, shaped by decades of personal and professional observation, analysis and experience. Any (potential) similarities to the previously published works of others are strictly coincidental.
Caution: Stop reading for a moment and compartmentalize your ego. Resume when you’re ready to take nothing personally and have decided to be fearless and non-defensive as you read.
There’s a tricky line between being constructively direct and being offensive with criticism. But what’s more important than where that line was drawn is how the line is regarded.
In 1989 I worked in a little coffee shop in South Hempstead, N.Y., helping my friend Nick, who had recently purchased the business, with customer service and certain managerial tasks. Since I’d stopped growing, at a below-American-average height, I’d always weighed a lean 108 to 112 pounds — until that autumn when I ballooned by almost 20 percent of my total body weight, which on my small frame constituted a hefty acquisition.
One of the eatery’s longtime customers — a manly looking guy until he spoke in his signature effeminate Long Island gossip-queen manner (think Joan Rivers in a young Jackie Gleason’s body) — noted to me over coffee and a Newsday one morning that I “look like . . . like . . . like a baby elephant these days.” I turned for a longer-than-usual glance in the mirror along the back wall and realized that he was right.
Note that I absolutely oppose rude and embarrassing critiques of others’ appearances; such behavior can certainly impact a person in more discouraging and damaging ways than this man’s remark impacted me. But I’d processed this one within my brain’s logic file, which I keep open 24/7 for the proper handling and conversion of such odd occurrences. His rudeness was a reflection of him, not me.
Hmmm, OK, I mentally conceded. It didn’t occur to me to be offended by his comment. He was a friend, of sorts. He had simply stated the obvious. And, as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t incumbent upon him not to state the obvious; it was incumbent upon me to present what I wanted people to see.
Within the hour I reverted back to the reasonable eating habits that had served me well all my life. Having no physiological barriers to the challenge, I then dropped all the excess weight within a few weeks without any more effort than resuming consciousness of the choices I had and opting for the “right” ones. There was, in fact, a measurable difference to be made in choosing grapefruit instead of pancakes and syrup with my eggs for breakfast and substituting a small bowl of low-fat ice cream for the two servings of the fully enriched version that everyone else was eating to which I’d apparently grown accustomed.
Had my slightly obsessive and extremely direct friend not shared his observation, I might have gained another several pounds before recognizing the problem myself. The more excess weight I’d have gained, the more damage I’d have been doing to myself, and the more unnecessarily laborious that damage would have been to mitigate.
From the receiving end, how would it have helped me to react to his comment that day by leaving work in a fit of emotion and self-pity to be consoled by a hot-fudge sundae on the way home? Essentially I appreciated his frankness. Who cared about his intentions? That had nothing to do with me; I had no control over his mindset. And regardless of what I might have thought of the messenger or his delivery, the message was accurate. It wasn’t personal; it was a statement about the obvious. And even better: Given the knowledge, I could easily correct the issue.
Likewise, this book is nothing personal. It’s not a calling out of anyone who has ever made a grammatical error, misplaced an apostrophe or screamed at unsuspecting consumers in all capital letters. In fact, I encourage those with no baggage to disembark now. This book is a compilation of the following: statements about the obvious and the not-so-obvious; opinions and reactions of everyday consumers, some of whom are also professional writers, journalists, editors and marketers; real-life accounts of the negative effects of flawed public messages and unprofessional media outreach; and the knowledge, refreshers, tips and insights that, when heeded, provide the foundation and structure for good, clear and effective professional communication and consumer and media relations. This book is not based on years (or even hours) of scientific market research or psychological study; even my survey results are limited to the opinions and experiences of a finite number of respondents and do not represent a polling of every person living in the U.S.A. It is a jam-packed sharing of working, practical knowledge and expertise. I know what I know, and I cut to the chase.
By the way, I didn’t shed every element of the baby elephant syndrome as I trod my own path as a writer and business person. I retained two characteristics worth employing daily: big ears and thick skin. (wink)
Learn more about "The $10,000 Apostrophe" here.
Previous section: $10,000 Apostrophe Preface
Next: Read an excerpt of the media-relations section here.
Next: Read an excerpt of the media-relations section here.
