A late night pass through one of the fast food restaurants reminds me I'd resolved to learn to speak Walmart this year and that I'd better get started. Most of those who are fluent in it are waaaay ahead of me, not only do they speak it, they write it eloquently.
You have to admire a language with so much flexibility and so many shortcuts - no complicated sentence structures, no rigid rules, no grammatical pitfalls - just a kind of mush mouthed, all purpose dialect with a natural flow. It's a language that doesn't trouble itself with the need for punctuation. It has backbone, refusing to be limited by the demands of clarity or demeaned by the ability to spell. It encourages a sort of familial intimacy - you have to lean in and pay strict attention to understand - this creates a sense of closeness between speaker and listener. And best of all, it's becoming universal.
Dis gurl be lookin fo a job, I read on the scrap of paper left under our door at lunch, Are yo gots one?
The paper is a page from a .39 spiral pocket notebook and has been torn out sloppily. The name - more like an illegible scrawl and smeared with some foreign substance that I don't want to think about - is followed by a telephone number.
Absolutely, I mutter to myself, Definitely management material. I'll get right on that.
Is this a joke? the doctor wants to know when I leave the note on his desk and I shrug.
Louisiana - where we see the separation of church and state as more of a suggested guideline and are still fighting tooth and nail to teach creationism (and Christianity with a capital C) in parish schools - doesn't waste many of its precious resources on education so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at this assault on literacy. As a language, Walmart is easier to learn and you can pick it up on any street corner and refine it any way you please. Not for nothing did we rate 10th in the top ten most miserable states to live in and that there are nine states more miserable is not much overall comfort.
The mysterious job applicant surfaces later that afternoon, squeezing her astonishing bulk through the door and waddling - there's simply no other word to describe her side-to-side rolling gait and I can't bear to think how raw her thighs must be - across the waiting room to the window. She arrives, panting and a little glassy eyed, slides her gum - or possibly chewing tobacco - to one side of her mouth and says something totally unintelligible but pretty close to Ya'll hirin'? I'm offended by her smell, by her grimy little hands clenched into fists, by her blackened teeth and her too-close-together, squinched up little eyes. But most of all, I'm offended by what passes for speech.
Against my better judgement, I hand her an application form - she snatches it, jams it into her overflowing cleavage and adjusts both bra straps - then with enormous effort, exits the waiting room. I'm reminded of watching a tidal wave recede.
Seen me a walrus once, one of the patients remarks, Looked a lot like that 'ceptin' he had these horn things.
Tusks, another patient adds helpfully, Dey call 'em tusks.
That be a low rent walkin' heart attack, his wife scolds, Ain't no need to be ugly 'bout it.
She's absolutely right, I think to myself. It's already ugly enough.
Walmart. The language of the people. More and more people speak it, write it, act it, and look it every day.
Jim Stafford called used cars the curse of the common man. He never lived here.
Dis gurl be lookin fo a job, I read on the scrap of paper left under our door at lunch, Are yo gots one?
The paper is a page from a .39 spiral pocket notebook and has been torn out sloppily. The name - more like an illegible scrawl and smeared with some foreign substance that I don't want to think about - is followed by a telephone number.
Absolutely, I mutter to myself, Definitely management material. I'll get right on that.
Is this a joke? the doctor wants to know when I leave the note on his desk and I shrug.
Louisiana - where we see the separation of church and state as more of a suggested guideline and are still fighting tooth and nail to teach creationism (and Christianity with a capital C) in parish schools - doesn't waste many of its precious resources on education so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at this assault on literacy. As a language, Walmart is easier to learn and you can pick it up on any street corner and refine it any way you please. Not for nothing did we rate 10th in the top ten most miserable states to live in and that there are nine states more miserable is not much overall comfort.
The mysterious job applicant surfaces later that afternoon, squeezing her astonishing bulk through the door and waddling - there's simply no other word to describe her side-to-side rolling gait and I can't bear to think how raw her thighs must be - across the waiting room to the window. She arrives, panting and a little glassy eyed, slides her gum - or possibly chewing tobacco - to one side of her mouth and says something totally unintelligible but pretty close to Ya'll hirin'? I'm offended by her smell, by her grimy little hands clenched into fists, by her blackened teeth and her too-close-together, squinched up little eyes. But most of all, I'm offended by what passes for speech.
Against my better judgement, I hand her an application form - she snatches it, jams it into her overflowing cleavage and adjusts both bra straps - then with enormous effort, exits the waiting room. I'm reminded of watching a tidal wave recede.
Seen me a walrus once, one of the patients remarks, Looked a lot like that 'ceptin' he had these horn things.
Tusks, another patient adds helpfully, Dey call 'em tusks.
That be a low rent walkin' heart attack, his wife scolds, Ain't no need to be ugly 'bout it.
She's absolutely right, I think to myself. It's already ugly enough.
Walmart. The language of the people. More and more people speak it, write it, act it, and look it every day.
Jim Stafford called used cars the curse of the common man. He never lived here.
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