Esprit d'something
The French have a term which is both unique amongst any languages as far as I know, and tremendously useful: esprit d'escalier. The spirit of the stairs.
It's the frustration you feel at a posh dinner party when, having been snidely insulted by an associate, you immediately counter with the most inane comeback on the planet, only to think of the perfect retort just after storming out the doors and down the stairs in humiliation. That's the dramatic version, anyway. It could just mean not coming up with the right joke until you've already blown the timing with your first one. Or more or less not thinking of anything which would have been the right thing to say when you actually had the chance to say it.
And, you know, that's what the richness of language is all about. Who knew you needed a word like "defenstrate" until you tried to live without it?
So now, my friends, I'm putting out a request — all you people who grew up speaking languages other than English — which language out there has a word or phrase for this one: the maintenance guy auto-fix. Also known as the tech support it-must-be-your-imagination problem.
Like last night.
When I arrived at my hotel room in Edmonton at around 9:30pm, as it was starting to get a little dark, and, like any rational individual, reached for the light switch on the lamp in the room. To no effect. And, thinking that perhaps that bulb wasn't working, reached for the light switch on the lamp on the other side of the bed. Also without results. And the lamp by the window.
The lamp on the desk seemed to work okay, and I initially resigned myself to saying, "Well, this is only one night, and I'm not totally in the dark, so maybe I'll just live with it," but then, when I found myself near the front desk later anyway, felt like I should say something. "Yes. Hi. I'm probably just missing something, but none of the lights in my room aside from the desk lamp seem to work. Is there a master switch somewhere that I haven't found?"
"No. Just the individual switch on each lamp, which I'm sure you tried."
"Yes, on each of them."
"Perhaps it's a breaker or fuse or something?"
"No, I'm sure the bulb probably just burned out."
". . ."
"It happens all the time."
"On all three lamps simultaneously?!?"
"Don't worry, sir. I'm calling a maintenance technician up to your room right away. He'll get it straightened out."
I have to admit, the response itself was astounding. The maintenance guy was already waiting outside the door to my room when I rounded the corner from the elevator. I let him in, and after he confirmed that he properly understood the problem, he walked to the lamp by the bed, turned the switch, and . . . it came on.
"But. . . ." I began.
Without saying a word, he walked to the lamp on the other side, and with equal ease, coaxed light from it with a single turn of the switch. The lamp by the window responded equally well. I stood there with my mouth hanging open.
"But I . . . I'm sure I . . . multiple times. Thanks, I mean — at least now it works, but I don't know what you. . . ."
"They're fluorescents," he chirped. "They don't come on right away when you turn the switch. Sometimes you have to wait a little."
All I could do was stare and blink as he smiled and left the room, walked down the hall, and disappeared into the elevator.
What's the term for that? Or at worst, maybe we coin one? Spirit of the Circuit? One network many paths? Operation is in the eye of the beholder?
Of course, the situation was not without its Esprit d'escalier, as well. "So, when the guy told you that about the fluorescents being slow and asking if you waited, what did you tell him?"
"I said, 'Well I waited long enough after turning on the switch to go down to the front desk and talk to the guy and then come back up here, but maybe they're the really long delay ones.'"
"Really? That's awesome! You really said that?"
"No. But I wish I had. . . ."
It's the frustration you feel at a posh dinner party when, having been snidely insulted by an associate, you immediately counter with the most inane comeback on the planet, only to think of the perfect retort just after storming out the doors and down the stairs in humiliation. That's the dramatic version, anyway. It could just mean not coming up with the right joke until you've already blown the timing with your first one. Or more or less not thinking of anything which would have been the right thing to say when you actually had the chance to say it.
And, you know, that's what the richness of language is all about. Who knew you needed a word like "defenstrate" until you tried to live without it?
So now, my friends, I'm putting out a request — all you people who grew up speaking languages other than English — which language out there has a word or phrase for this one: the maintenance guy auto-fix. Also known as the tech support it-must-be-your-imagination problem.
Like last night.
When I arrived at my hotel room in Edmonton at around 9:30pm, as it was starting to get a little dark, and, like any rational individual, reached for the light switch on the lamp in the room. To no effect. And, thinking that perhaps that bulb wasn't working, reached for the light switch on the lamp on the other side of the bed. Also without results. And the lamp by the window.
The lamp on the desk seemed to work okay, and I initially resigned myself to saying, "Well, this is only one night, and I'm not totally in the dark, so maybe I'll just live with it," but then, when I found myself near the front desk later anyway, felt like I should say something. "Yes. Hi. I'm probably just missing something, but none of the lights in my room aside from the desk lamp seem to work. Is there a master switch somewhere that I haven't found?"
"No. Just the individual switch on each lamp, which I'm sure you tried."
"Yes, on each of them."
"Perhaps it's a breaker or fuse or something?"
"No, I'm sure the bulb probably just burned out."
". . ."
"It happens all the time."
"On all three lamps simultaneously?!?"
"Don't worry, sir. I'm calling a maintenance technician up to your room right away. He'll get it straightened out."
I have to admit, the response itself was astounding. The maintenance guy was already waiting outside the door to my room when I rounded the corner from the elevator. I let him in, and after he confirmed that he properly understood the problem, he walked to the lamp by the bed, turned the switch, and . . . it came on.
"But. . . ." I began.
Without saying a word, he walked to the lamp on the other side, and with equal ease, coaxed light from it with a single turn of the switch. The lamp by the window responded equally well. I stood there with my mouth hanging open.
"But I . . . I'm sure I . . . multiple times. Thanks, I mean — at least now it works, but I don't know what you. . . ."
"They're fluorescents," he chirped. "They don't come on right away when you turn the switch. Sometimes you have to wait a little."
All I could do was stare and blink as he smiled and left the room, walked down the hall, and disappeared into the elevator.
What's the term for that? Or at worst, maybe we coin one? Spirit of the Circuit? One network many paths? Operation is in the eye of the beholder?
Of course, the situation was not without its Esprit d'escalier, as well. "So, when the guy told you that about the fluorescents being slow and asking if you waited, what did you tell him?"
"I said, 'Well I waited long enough after turning on the switch to go down to the front desk and talk to the guy and then come back up here, but maybe they're the really long delay ones.'"
"Really? That's awesome! You really said that?"
"No. But I wish I had. . . ."