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Divided by a common language: why an American won’t call you a ‘bloody arse’ Divided by a common language: why an American won’t call you a ‘bloody arse’
(about 4 hours later)
“You’re so British!”“You’re so British!”
I was having an ice-cream cone with a friend from college who I hadn’t seen in four years.I was having an ice-cream cone with a friend from college who I hadn’t seen in four years.
“What?” I said, taken aback. I am American. She is very American.“What?” I said, taken aback. I am American. She is very American.
“You sound British,” she asserted.“You sound British,” she asserted.
“No I don’t,” I said, failing to remember what I could have done to make her think that. “You must be positively mad.”“No I don’t,” I said, failing to remember what I could have done to make her think that. “You must be positively mad.”
OK, I didn’t really say that last bit. But surely I wasn’t one of those Americans, was I? I couldn’t be one of those monsters who walked around saying “mobile” instead of “cellphone” and eating with their fork tines facing down instead of up.OK, I didn’t really say that last bit. But surely I wasn’t one of those Americans, was I? I couldn’t be one of those monsters who walked around saying “mobile” instead of “cellphone” and eating with their fork tines facing down instead of up.
I had been working at the Guardian in New York for three years, with mostly British co-workers, and my roommate is British, but I couldn’t possibly be quite so very foreign-sounding as she thought. I finished my ice-cream and biked home, recalling with some apprehension an episode of Friends where Monica and Phoebe meet up with a friend who has just returned to the US after three years in England, a bevy of annoying British phrases in tow. “I feel like a perfect arse,” the friend says to Phoebe. “In America, you’re just an ass,” she replies.I had been working at the Guardian in New York for three years, with mostly British co-workers, and my roommate is British, but I couldn’t possibly be quite so very foreign-sounding as she thought. I finished my ice-cream and biked home, recalling with some apprehension an episode of Friends where Monica and Phoebe meet up with a friend who has just returned to the US after three years in England, a bevy of annoying British phrases in tow. “I feel like a perfect arse,” the friend says to Phoebe. “In America, you’re just an ass,” she replies.
When I started working here, I admit that I was really quite enamoured of the new culture I had been plopped into. The New York office is something like an embassy: a plot of UK soil right in the middle of Manhattan. I loved little things: the shunning of most periods – or full stops, as I started calling them after the editor-in-chief took me aside a few days into the job. “Periods only really have one meaning in Britain,” she said, explaining away the smirks on some of my male colleagues’ faces.When I started working here, I admit that I was really quite enamoured of the new culture I had been plopped into. The New York office is something like an embassy: a plot of UK soil right in the middle of Manhattan. I loved little things: the shunning of most periods – or full stops, as I started calling them after the editor-in-chief took me aside a few days into the job. “Periods only really have one meaning in Britain,” she said, explaining away the smirks on some of my male colleagues’ faces.
I loved that people in the office actually called things “ghastly” or said: “Let’s have a proper brew.” Actually, it was mostly me saying that last one. And I suppose I acclimated, with mixed results. There were a few goes at getting “he’s taking the piss” (which I actually do say now) correct. Announcing instead that someone was “taking a piss” got big laughs.I loved that people in the office actually called things “ghastly” or said: “Let’s have a proper brew.” Actually, it was mostly me saying that last one. And I suppose I acclimated, with mixed results. There were a few goes at getting “he’s taking the piss” (which I actually do say now) correct. Announcing instead that someone was “taking a piss” got big laughs.
But then, as I realise now, I wasn’t always given the most honest guidance.But then, as I realise now, I wasn’t always given the most honest guidance.
Me: I notice a lot of Britons sign correspondence with an X. Does it mean kisses?Me: I notice a lot of Britons sign correspondence with an X. Does it mean kisses?
Tim: It means I love you.Tim: It means I love you.
Since then, as I weave in and out of two types of English in my job as a copy editor, I’ve adopted this kind of workable hybrid language: probably about 75% American and 25% British. I pick and choose what I like most from each language. I use Ss almost exclusively in place of Zs, which look too harsh to me now. I catch myself saying “Give us a bite” or “It was quite crowded, actually” instead of “Give me a bite” and “It was packed.” I’m really keen on the phrase “Keep your beak out.”Since then, as I weave in and out of two types of English in my job as a copy editor, I’ve adopted this kind of workable hybrid language: probably about 75% American and 25% British. I pick and choose what I like most from each language. I use Ss almost exclusively in place of Zs, which look too harsh to me now. I catch myself saying “Give us a bite” or “It was quite crowded, actually” instead of “Give me a bite” and “It was packed.” I’m really keen on the phrase “Keep your beak out.”
There’s real science to back this up: it’s called communication accommodation theory and it posits that when people interact they adjust their speech, their vocal patterns and their gestures, to accommodate to others.There’s real science to back this up: it’s called communication accommodation theory and it posits that when people interact they adjust their speech, their vocal patterns and their gestures, to accommodate to others.
Scientists say the phenomenon of adopting first vocabulary and then, potentially and horrifyingly, even taking on a foreign accent as an adult, is borne out of empathy, or a subconscious desire to fit in. Well, hey. I feel like I get by pretty well at the office with my winning personality and American charms. And yet, I was still susceptible to the influence of the Queen’s English – and in my home country, to boot.Scientists say the phenomenon of adopting first vocabulary and then, potentially and horrifyingly, even taking on a foreign accent as an adult, is borne out of empathy, or a subconscious desire to fit in. Well, hey. I feel like I get by pretty well at the office with my winning personality and American charms. And yet, I was still susceptible to the influence of the Queen’s English – and in my home country, to boot.
I maintain that there are some British words that Americans just can’t say. “Arse” is one of them. That hard American R takes up the entire pronunciation, and drowns out all the subtlety. “Bloody” is another. It will never feel natural to me to say “bloody”, except maybe at a crime scene. I can’t picture myself saying “flat”, though the prospect of dropping more than half the syllables of “apartment” is pretty enticing.I maintain that there are some British words that Americans just can’t say. “Arse” is one of them. That hard American R takes up the entire pronunciation, and drowns out all the subtlety. “Bloody” is another. It will never feel natural to me to say “bloody”, except maybe at a crime scene. I can’t picture myself saying “flat”, though the prospect of dropping more than half the syllables of “apartment” is pretty enticing.
So as much as I shudder at the reality of giving up some Americanisms, I don’t want to give up any of my new British vocabulary either, even if it alarms some of my old college chums. It’s a happy circumstance to be able to learn the quirks of a different culture, especially one that I think people are happy to assume are much more similar than they really are.So as much as I shudder at the reality of giving up some Americanisms, I don’t want to give up any of my new British vocabulary either, even if it alarms some of my old college chums. It’s a happy circumstance to be able to learn the quirks of a different culture, especially one that I think people are happy to assume are much more similar than they really are.
And it’s perfectly clear that, three years on, I’ve still got a lot to learn:And it’s perfectly clear that, three years on, I’ve still got a lot to learn:
Did anyone else think Clarence House was a personDid anyone else think Clarence House was a person
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