Column: Whatever you say, say nothing

Here’s a quote from a story in The New York Times published a while ago on travel industry professionals finding better ways to serve young clients by changing the way they talk to them: “It’s much more around buy-in and wanting to be part of the team and understanding the big picture.”

So said Evan Konswiser, who gave his job as “travel technology entrepreneur.” (I wasn’t impressed by his title since I had recently seen a business card describing the bearer as “Director of Brand & Technology Fulfillment.”)

I got an email the other day that had the phrase, “We had to pivot to escape the headwinds going forward,” which brought on the image of a point guard taunting an opponent on the bow of a yacht, which is not, I’m pretty sure, what the writer meant to convey.

“Going forward” has become as common as a person’s “journey.” It seems, at least in the language we use, that we’ve forgotten there’s a future, and rather than simply living a life, we’re hiring bearers before heading deep into the rain forest.

Here’s some English from a press release: “We think outside the box, which makes us a results-oriented organization, always providing added value, which is our mission’s bottom line and will improve yours.”

This reminded me of a story told to me by Joyce Silberstang, assistant professor at Adelphi University. She remembered a meeting led by someone imploring outside-the-box thinking.

“We’re in a building, which is a box, in a room, which is a box, staring at a piece of paper, which is a box, and a white board, which is a box,” Silberstang said. “And we’re told to be creative.”

Jargon chugs through offices and email inboxes tailed by clichés clanging along in the caboose. Tracing its etymology to an old French word, jargon originally meant “the chattering of birds,” and Webster’s defines it as “incoherent speech; gibberish …”

Gibberish, but it’s also a form of speech that colleagues use as shorthand, elitists use as a verbal secret handshake and is always the lingua franca of snake oil salesmen. It’s also a form of linguistic tragedy, born with the best intentions, maturing into phrases that inspire the imagination, only to die as a clichéd figure of fun.

Working at a business journal, I ran into Noreen Carro, president of a Nassau County printing firm, who was a self-described “collector” of clichés and jargon, which she noted is on the rise everywhere. She started with the three A’s, “As in awesome, actually and absolutely.”
Then there’s, “Today more than ever,” Ms. Carro quoted. “Right, I hope so, because tomorrow might not be here.”

Skin-crawling is guaranteed in the bromide: There is no “I” in team. “But what about the ‘m’ and the ‘e?’” she asked.

Another one Ms. Carro puzzles over is “at the end of the day.” It makes her wonder what happened all day long before the last part.

A recent favorite: May I be honest with you? “No,” Carro said. “Lie to me.” (Another curious throat clearer used by people these days is “frankly,” even — especially? —­ when the speaker is insincere.)

Using clichés is probably more common than jargon, because we grow up with them, almost from the cradle, as a way of learning the language. And clichés, the late William Safire cautioned, should be avoided like the plague.

Brian O’Nolan, who wrote under several names, including “Myles na Gopaleen,” said “a cliché is a phrase that has become fossilized, its component words deprived of their intrinsic light and meaning by incessant usage. Thus it appears that clichés reflect somewhat the frequency of the same situations in life.” Not content to leave it at that, he created “The Myles na Gopaleen Catechism of Cliché,” hilarious in its own right but essential reading for anyone who is condemned to write, such as journalists.

Some examples: “What does pandemonium do? It breaks loose. Describe its subsequent dominion. It reigns.”

And: “What happens to order? It is restored. Alternatively, in what does the meeting break up? Disorder.”

Or: “What can one do with fierce resistance? Offer it. How are allegations dealt with? They are denied. Yes, but you are weakening, sir. Come now, how are they denied? Hotly.”

Anthony Burgess, who knew a thing or two about language, even creating a new one for “A Clockwork Orange,” had the na Gopaleen spirit of never policing English without a smile. Language, he wrote, “survives everything — corruption, misuse, ignorance, ineptitude … it is the human glory that antecedes all others.”

Which leads me back to a friend of mine, who wishes one cliché she’s hearing too often lately would silently die.

“‘Shut up,’” she said. “Which is replacing, ‘Oh my God,’ when the person really just wants to express surprise.”

Mr. na Gopaleen’s catechism concurs: “In what direction should I shut? Up.”

I thought you’d never ask.