And the art of the submarine sandwich, Kmart style
A COLUMN By Kathryn Ross
People don’t listen anymore. In this age of social media and sticking your face in a cell phone, communication is taking a nosedive. Abbreviated cell phone and Facebook messages are full of acronyms I don’t understand. What does DM or LOL or TTYL mean?
I looked up Facebook acronyms and discovered a whole new chapter in linguistics.
DM – means direct message.
HAND – stands for have a nice day.
LOL – stands for lots of love or laughing out loud.
MTFBYU – means may the force be with you.
OMW – stands for on my way.
TTYL – means talk to you later.
Those are just some of the acronyms you find sprinkled throughout Facebook and cell phone messages.
My guess is that these acronyms are a way of saving time or perhaps a way of preventing finger fatigue. It amazes me when I see someone, usually someone under fifty, using both hands to type into their cell phones. I use the old-fashioned hunt and peck technique. I am a one finger cell phone typer.
Being that crotchety old lady again, I’m annoyed by the lack of communication. If you have to guess what someone is saying, it is not communication. The essence of communication is understanding.
Recently, I took the opportunity to call for take-out (CFTO). I did it twice over a busy weekend. I thought I’d give the place a second chance after they flubbed my first order. The first time I had called for a simple cheese and pepperoni pizza to be delivered to my back door. It was going to take 35 minutes. That was understandable. It was a busy night. Seventy-five minutes later I was still waiting for my food. The delivery person could not find my apartment. I had explained, come in by the back parking lot, because there is no safe parking in front of the building. I live in the back anyway.
The next night I thought I would give them a second chance. I called and ordered a sub with no lettuce, no tomato, no oil, and no onion. I told them I just wanted meat and cheese. I realize that, is a sandwich, but they didn’t have sandwiches on their menu.
I know what subs are. The first sub I ever ate was when I was 12-or-13-years old. On a hot, end of summer day, my parents took me to a new store in Olean to buy school clothes. I think that the store was where the Ashley store is today. The store had a small section where you could purchase drinks, popcorn, candy apples, and pre-made subs.
Dad was all for trying a sub. Normally we ate chunks of peperoni, cheese, and crackers during car trips. Water came from the spicket on the dash. My dad could be sarcastic.
That day we got drinks and American Subs with mystery meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and dressing. They were the new thing. We didn’t die from salmonella poisoning after eating them. Sixty years later, I’m still eating subs.
Anyway, my steak and cheese sub came on time. It came with lettuce, tomato, oil, mayonnaise, and onion, but I didn’t find that out until it was unwrapped. It came to the front door. It did not come to the back door as I had instructed, and where I was patiently waiting.
When I heard the knock on the hallway door, I lost my patience. With anger and contempt, I asked the poor delivery boy what they didn’t understand about coming in the back way?
I gave him a good tip to compensate for losing my temper and apologized for my outburst.
Later in the week my dining club selected that same restaurant to visit. I thought – “a third chance, new people aren’t still new, it was an in-house visit, no need for delivery, it couldn’t possibly happen again.” I was wrong. They still couldn’t grasp the concept of NO ONIONS.
The 1967 movie Cool Hand Luke came to mind, “What we have here is failure to communicate.” In other words, three strikes and you’re out. They will not be getting an order from me any time soon.
I don’t know why people don’t listen these days. Maybe they are too busy listening to tunes. Maybe they are deciphering cell phone and social media acronyms. Whatever the reason, communication is getting to be a lost art, and that, I’m afraid, does not bode well for the future of our society.
Kathryn Ross is a Wellsville “lifer” and a lifetime journalist, columnist, and community activist. You can reach her anytime, kathr_2002@yahoo.com
