Greetings and Salutations

It is the most mundane way to start an announcement, one you've heard countless times and one I've said countless times. Its purpose is not to educate, to cajole, to convince or persuade, to be confrontational or challenging, but rather merely to be administrative. I've used it in London, in Dallas, in Miami, and you've heard it in New York, in Chicago, in Boston. And even though it is said with no malice nor disrespect, I have to teach myself to stop doing it. For it seems that while I certainly don't want to offend anyone or make them feel like they don't fit in, it seems that I might be doing just that.

Let me say unequivocally I don't care who you are or what you are. Until you do something to change the circumstances on the ground, you deserve to be treated with respect by me and by anyone with whom you come in contact. At the top of that list is being identified as you wish. Whether that is by the formal name your mother gave you, or by a nickname you've adopted or earned, that is OK by me. Same goes for a title you've worked hard to achieve, or one which has been bestowed upon you by circumstance or deed. And no different are the pronouns you wish us all to refer to you by. Yes, it can be confusing for those of us who grew up in simpler times, but we mean no harm. Our slowness to adapt is merely evidence of the fading ability of older dogs to learn newer tricks.

Should we err (and we do) in a one-on-one encounter, we have the ability to apologize, to smooth over inadvertent slights with mea culpas and humanity. Not so in a more public-facing situation, and that is where I find myself. As part of my usual roll at events, I am the person who makes announcements to get people moving, to introduce speakers and segments, to offer up housekeeping information as needed, the so called "Voice of God" or VOG. I've done it for years, and it's gone from a nervous performance to a routine skill called upon with regularity. In service of that my muscle memory kicks in, and I automatically start most if not all of these pronouncements with the phrase I need to learn to banish: "Ladies and gentlemen."

Hardly a new choice of words, it's use dates back centuries, with the term "lady" inferring a woman of high status, while "gentle" had its root in "genteel" and did the same for menfolk. In other words, the formulation was a sign of respect for those being addressed. Since then It has gone on to become a default starting point for a crowd, one which sets the stage for more important information to come. It alerts those to whom it is directed that the next words are worth listing to, and is gentler than a whistle, more commanding than "uhh, excuse me," and less confrontational than "Hey, listen up!" 

But you would have to have your head buried under a pile of sand in the now times not to be aware that how we address our fellow people has been undergoing a change. None of this should be a surprise: language changes and morphs over time. We rarely address someone as "m'lady" anymore, while those who perform on a stage are referred to as "actors" be they male or female. In that same vein, as notions of self and sexuality have changed, traditional singular pronouns, such as he and her, have been joined by they and them, and even ve and xe. It may be different, but it's not wrong.

And so it seems that the traditional formulation I use of L&G is becoming outdated. The challenge is what to replace it with. For sure, one could jump right to the meat of the story, and begin with "Please take your seats" or "Please welcome Sally McCord." Nothing wrong with that from a content standpoint, but it's as much a performative problem as anything else. What I need is a collective noun that gives me a hook into a group of people in front of me, one that has rhythm to give me an on-ramp into the more important information that's coming. Basically I need a door opener 

Some suggest beginning with the time of day: "Good morning" or such. That works maybe once, but certainly doesn't wear well on repeated recitations. Similar starting points have the same problem: "Hi there" or "Hey all" or "Greetings and Salutations." Which brings us back to connecting with the people in a way that includes all without singling out any. "Distinguished guests" works but is a little too stiff, while "Folks" seems a bit too casual or chummy, and "People" a tad impersonal. In some situations "Comrades/colleagues/peers/associates/partners" (pick one) might do the trick, and "Friends and enemies" certainly leaves no one out. 

With nothing jumping off the page, however, my quest will continue. At some point I will arrive at a formulation that a) commands the proper amount of attention, b) offends no one, and c) rolls off my tongue as effortlessly as the old phrasing did. I'll keep poking: I like "Allies" but "My Dears" seems out of character. Then again, to hit all the right notes, perhaps I need to revert to the most common of denominators. So don't be surprised if you are at an event I am working, and you hear me say "Please take your seats, Citizens of Earth."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has been told he has a good VOG voice. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Give Me The Power

 Progress comes in many forms. There are the big movements, industrial revolutions that fundamentally changed the world as we know it. Now in the midst of the fourth, these tectonic movements shift the very basis on how we live our lives. No less earth shaking are the narrower, targeted advances within a specific area: think the progression from muskets to automatic weapons, from propellers to jet engines, from flip phones to smart phones. And there are broad-based attitudinal shifts, as much about the acceptance of a change as the advances underlying them. You see that in everything from the move to credit cards from cash, and the growth of remote work and schooling.

Then there are the incremental changes. These tiny little shifts may not even be noticed by most, just accepted. A new button here, a shift on a screen there, a different shape of a handle or knob. None is earthshattering, but rather move the needle a fractional amount in terms of ease or efficiency. It might be an adjustment to a recipe or a redesign of an app, a retooling of a car dashboard a better backpack strap. No one knows the name of the person who figured out that the last few laces on your boots don't have to go through eyelets but can use little tiny cleats to make it easier to get them on and off, but we all owe them a debt of gratitude.

Those kind of changes are all but invisible until they're not. Often they get put into service, and no one even notices them. But eventually someone encounters them because of circumstance or station, and it's as if the angels sing and the heavens part. If that seems like an awfully strong reaction, perhaps it is. Unless you need it at the second. In that situation. And then the solve is so on point, so ingenious, so elegant, that you wonder how mankind survived without until now. And so it was with me an extension cord. 

More specifically it was a power strip. You know the object: a sliver of metal or plastic about 8 to 10 inches long that has several outlets on it and a snake-like tail, turning a single electrical connection into many. They come plain and fancy, some with switches, some with surge protectors, some with indicator lights and fuses. In our modern world where everything has to be plugged in or charged, they are as utilitarian as a hammer, as unsexy as a screwdriver, but as necessary as air.

But they have a major flaw. In olden days, when everything had its own individual power cord, they were just fine, allowing you to multiplex as many pieces of gear for which you had room. But times change. As we moved to battery powered devices, where the power pack was at the end of the cable rather than built into the device, those wires terminated not in a plug but a box. All well and good. But plug one of those into the strip, and the power pack covered the adjoining outlet and maybe even the one after that. What was designed to power 8 or 10 devices could now handle just 2 or 3. Many was the time we all played some Tetris-like game, moving one plug to another and turning the power packs around and around trying to bend space and time to free up just one more outlet. 

That was the situation I was facing on a recent project. I had a lot of hardware that needed juice: a USB power block, a computer power pack and several ancillary pieces of gear whose chords terminated in bulbous flat plugs several inches long. Laid end to end it was a solid foot of plastic which more than covered an entire power strip without allowing access to the outlets. I was just about to try and scare up another strip when I realized a simple design tweak in the one I had been given. Rather than the outlets being oriented parallel to the strip, they had been turned 90 degrees AND had been spaced further apart. The result was that I could plug not just the four packs I had into the strip, but several more. I was gobsmackced. I would have sooner believed dogs could talk than I could get the power I needed out of a single strip. Yes, I am easily impressed, but impressed I was.

It has been said that change comes in two flavors: traumatic and trivial. This was certainly not the former, but it all but defines the later. When the history of the world is written, there will be chapters on Edison and Ford, on Jobs and Marconi. But lost will be the name of the anonymous engineer at ACME electric who said in a staff meeting "what if we turned them THIS way?" Sir or Madam, I thank you for your contribution to progress: rest assured I will not forget you.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford can find wonder in the smallest things. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Listen Up

Walk down any street in New York City and the distractions are many. There are the buildings and structures which make up an urban landscape unlike any other in the world. There are the smells, some pleasant, some less than that, that waft from storefronts and restaurants, from bodegas and street vendors. And there are the people, a vibrant mix showcasing every ethnicity, sexuality, size and shape wrapped in a dizzying array of attire that defines every nook and cranny of the fashion world.

Added to all of that are the sounds. Traffic, to be sure, a humming mass that rises and falls from street to street and neighborhood to neighborhood. There are industrial noises, be they buildings being built up or torn down, streets being repaired or installed, or construction projects creating some unidentifiable piece of infrastructure that seem to never end. And then there are the voices, spitting out a dizzying array of languages and accents that merge into a wall of sound that would make Phil Spector proud.

Like a living white noise machine, it all blends into a wave of sound that you just learn to tune out. Many avoid it by plugging their ears with buds or covering them with earphones to pipe their own personalized soundtrack directly into their brain. And still others put those same earbuds in but don't connect them to anything, the modern equivalent of stuffing cotton upside your head.

But if you do listen, well, the rewards are great. That living, breathing mass of humanity talks about anything and everything, often with little concern as to what they are saying and who might be overhearing it. But it's not just what they say but how they say it. Keep your ears cocked, and the tidbits you can glean are pure gold, the stuff that the best writers in in Hollywood and at the New Yorker struggle to come up with to fill their outlets. Thankfully, many do mine that vein and submit them to Overheard in New York.

Started some 20 years ago, the site takes submissions from anyone who, well, overhears something worth passing on. As it's not a unique situation that only happens here, the site has produced a number of spinoffs, some focusing on other metropolitan areas (Dublin and Philadelphia to name a few), others on various locales (Overheard at the Beach and Overheard at the Office). But it all started, and one can argue continues to define the state-of-the-art, right here. To wit, some examples.

"He told me he's a minimalist and I was just, like, no babe, your apartment is just furnished by IKEA."

"So my gynecologist called to give me he the results of my hormonal test and she said everything was normal. I asked her why I get in such bad moods and she said 'maybe you are just miserable with your life.'"

"It's funny how the phrase 'He's following me' has evolved from terrifying into something to be proud of."

Woman: "We had a nice time, but you know he still lives with his parents." Her friend: "You mean in their West Village townhouse? Come on now, let's play the long game here."

Cop next to a woman on a bicycle: "Miss, you're going way too fast on that bike. Slow down." Woman on bike: "Or what? Am I under arrest for emitting zero Co2 and having incredibly strong legs?"

Flight attendant to passenger: "I'll fly any route, except New York-Miami. Those people are the worst."

Woman: "I don't go north of 14th Street." Her friend: "Umm, you're wearing Ann Taylor and pumps, so even sartorially, this is just a lie."

"Could you make all four of my drinks show up as tacos on the receipt." I'm putting this on the company card as a business lunch."

Woman: "You don't like it when guys wear earrings?" Her companion: "I don't know, it just feels like I'm having sex with Captain Hook."

Woman: "How's living with your boyfriend?" Her companion: "It's interesting! He's the love of my life, but if he forgets to refill the ice tray one more time they'll find his body floating in the Hudson River."

"Don't do it too often, but if you feel really lonely, call ConEd and tell them you smell gas. They'll send live five firemen over immediately."

Man: " What's wrong, baby?" Woman: "Don't you call me baby. You can only call me baby when we are on good terms, and right now we are not on good terms."

With the aforementioned evidence making a convincing case, one can argue that the Big Apple represents the ne plus ultra of the genre. However, there is gold everywhere you listen; all you have to do is keep your ears open. Just the other day, at a local charity where I volunteer, a woman was dropping off a donation. She was asking one of the other volunteers if they could return the container her donation came in or one similar to it. Her request: "I don't want a lighter one, just one that weighs less." Seinfeld could do no better.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford loves to listen to the surrounding chatter as he roams His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Silent Talking

 There was the shoe phone concealed in Max's loafer. There was Agent 99's version hidden in her nail, so it looked like she was just nervous and nibbling on it when she was talking. There was the camera concealed in a bowl of soup ("Cream of Technicolor") and the laser weapon hidden in a button on Max's sports jacket (the "laser blazer").

But my favorite gadget from the 1965 TV Show "Get Smart" was the Cone of Silence. When the Chief had something sensitive to discuss, Max always insisted that they needed protection from prying ears. "Lower the Cone of Silence" went the command, after which two transparent plastic hemispheres came down over them to prevent conversations from being overheard. Of course, they couldn't hear each other, and someone outside the Cone had to repeat what each was saying. After a while the Chief usually gave up and shouted "Raise the Cone of Silence!" It was later augmented by the Umbrella of Silence, the Portable Cone of Silence (two plastic bubble helmets with a pipe between them) and the Closet of Silence. 

These days a little quiet would be nice. Cell phones have made it so that there is literally no place that half a conversation isn't intruding on our space. For sure many callers talk louder, on the assumption that their side of the call has to be heard above any environmental interference. In fact that increase in volume is usually not needed and might even make the situation worse. Modern cell phones have all kinds of noise cancellation capabilities built in on both ends, and talking at a normal level is usually the best practice to being heard correctly. 

Beyond volume, the biggest annoyance with hearing half a conversation is that you unconsciously try and recreate the other half. Rather than being able to ignore two people talking, your brain tries to puzzle out the side you can't hear. Think of your brain as doing what ChatGPT does: taking the last words, and trying to figure out the next few. If you hear "Well, what should I pick up?" you race to fill in the blank. Milk? Dry cleaning? Sally? You never get an answer, just another question: "OK, and then where should we meet?" Same conundrum again, same no resolution. No wonder it pisses us off: it's a game we can't win.

Short of having a Cone for ourselves or a portable one to stick other people in, there is little one can do. On some railroads there are quiet cars, wherein riders are asked not to chat. Unfortunately, that service was largely curtailed during the pandemic when ridership was down, and many haven't come back. Airplanes are still a "no call" zone, but that's mostly about the amount of limited stable bandwidth accessible when traveling at 500 miles an hour. One worries that if they ever figure that puzzle out, and they will, you'll be stuck elbow to elbow in a cylinder for 3 hours with 200 people fighting with customer service over their missing delivery of cat litter.

When that comes to pass, we have to hope there will be a requirement for users to employ a device like the one being developed by Skyted. Created by aerospace professionals, it packs the noise absorption technology used in jet engines into a face mask that looks like the front of a Darth Vader helmet. It connects to your phone, and muffles your side of the conversation to outsiders by 80%. You might get more than a few looks from your seatmates, but when you wear it none of them will be able to listen in as you reschedule the plumber for the third time. Of course, that's for you: you'd have to hold down other offenders and strap this to their face, which might not go over so well.

A personal closing note. As an individual whose job entails trying to speak softly in the back of the room while a performance is going on up front, I have been admonished thousands of times to "keep it down." I try, I really do, but sometimes the situation gets the better of me. I would be quite willing to spring for one of these contraptions if they ever hit the market, my own personal Cone of Silence if you will. You might laugh at how I look, but then the sound you won't hear will be me talking.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to use his indoor voice whenever he can. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.