Occupied

While occupying a men’s room stall in a grocery store not long ago, a pair of shoes appeared in front of the door; after a long moment, the wearer of the shoes knocked several times, hard and insistently.

“Occupied,” I said, in a firm voice.

After a few seconds came several more knocks, harder and it seemed to me, urgent and a bit angry.

“Occupied,” I said again, louder, meaner, quite annoyed.

The shoes shifted in front of the door, left forward, right forward, both back a half step. But they held their place, undeterred by my repeated insistence there was, indeed, no room in the stall. The shoes obviously belonged to a man with a need.

Now came a half-dozen punches so hard that the door shook. This man was not going away. He was also not coming in. I too had needs.

In a voice as fierce as I could produce in my position, I bellowed, “There is someone in here!” My goal was to inspire in the clodhopper outside the door the fear of broken limbs and loosened teeth should he persist.

“Why didn’t you say so?” came the man’s puzzled reply.

“I did—twice,” I replied, feeling foolish to be arguing angrily

The shoes shifted again as it dawned on the dimwit that “occupied” must somehow mean that the stall he’d expected to enter had another person already in it.

Eventually, the shoes and their owner left the men’s room, trailing a cloud of muttered profanity, vile but far from creative. Mostly, the cursing cretin repeated a single four-letter word beloved by amateur vulgarians the world over.

This is, I tremble to report, is a true story, with two points. First, we live in a world in which rudeness reigns. While I admit that this was the first time I’d been harassed in this manner in a public rest room, it’s just one more in a rapidly growing list of rude, crude, insensible acts of idiocy. And you, dear reader, certainly have a list of your own. Doesn’t it make you wonder if decency has disappeared?

Second, and more appalling, is the fact that a word like “occupied” isn’t instantly understood. Sadly, I can supply many other times when I’ve used common words that weren’t understood. I suspect that you are even now recalling a time or two when you spoke with an adult and had to resort to a first grade vocabulary to make your point.

One example: At my morning job, I pump gas at a local service station. Feeling quite cheerful one perfect summer morning, I answered a customer’s request to “fill it up” with “Yes, sir—with alacrity!” The baffled, upset customer said, “No, no! Fill it with regular unleaded!”

I didn’t offer a definition; alacrity isn’t an everyday word. And the customer, although a genial regular at the station, had never exhibited a wide vocabulary.

But I think we should expect more from professional broadcasters—people who earn a living by explaining the world clearly. Listening to them shouldn’t make us wonder what they meant to say.

Two quick examples: An NPR reporter announced that rescue crews at the site of an earthquake “have found a living survivor.” As opposed to a deceased survivor?

A weatherman forecast “plenty of copious rain.” I wore a raincoat, rubbers, and brought an umbrella in preparation for what promised to be a most memorably rainy day.

But the worst offenders in the misused use of the English language are professional baseball announcers. Just one example from my next entry to this site: Beginning the final week of the regular season, a professional announcer, a man who broadcasts games to millions of fans, said, “I can’t believe it’s almost time for the playoffs—how time has flied!”