Monday, December 3, 2012

Phew! "A Few (the most frustratingly ambiguous word in any language) Moments" Really Did Take Only A Few Moments


Sorry, I've been away from this blog for a few days more than I'd like; chalk it up to insecurity. Not my usual attache case of insecurities (ubiquitous), but the fact that my internet security system had lapsed and I had to wait a couple days for a replacement. I've been zapped before, so I was treading oh so softly 'round the web the last few days. But now I'm installed, re-booted, activated, and seemingly safe--and therein lies today's tale.

My technological phobias begin with "batteries not included," so you can imagine the paranoia I felt when I inserted the disc into my drive and began the often excruciating process of installing a piece of software. I always want to be deaf in such circumstances. The clicks and revvings and ticks and brakings of a spinning disc in my drive make me want to dive for cover with a fire extinguisher--must high tech be so frightfully noisy? And then there's always the possibility that I will be faced with a choice other than continue/cancel: I speak a very halting computerese, so anything beyond continue/cancel takes me back to my lifelong recurring nightmare that I'm in Bulgaria, ask for directions to a bathroom, and end up in a torture dungeon run by renegade Bulgarian nuns. Luckily, though, tonight all I had to do was "continue." Twice, downloading updates and installing, I had to sit through that wonderful computer tease of the percentage count. You know, watching the numbers climb from 0 to 100 as the computer goes about its business. Being something of a counting aficionado (on a completely sub-Rain Man basis), I kind of like this digital ritual. If you're not in total luck and the numbers whiz by faster than you count, you find yourself trying to figure out the rhythm of the numbers climb. You get your internal clock adjusted during the 1-10 accrual, wondering, is it really going to be this slow, or is something going to kick in  and the numbers start flashing by. My favorite percentage climb is the uneven but eventually reliable cluster-climb, as I like to call it. You know, a jump of seven numbers quickly, pause, two more, pause, pause, pause, four more, pause, seven, etc. Oh, the zen-like experiences our non-computerized ancestors knew not. Tonight's percentage climbs--both of them--were slow, methodical, hit-every-digit-from-one-to-a-hundred-for-a-few-seconds-at-least ones. Frustrating by the teens, maddening by the twenties, eventually I adapted to the digital war of attrition. I studied the font-look of each numeral and tried to recall where I had seen the identical numerical representation before--the 5 tonight looked just like the 5 on Cleveland's WEWS TV station. Then, as the climb inexorably reached into the fifties, I meditated on the per cent sign--%. Now I've never been a math genius, so let me tell you, tonight when I realized that what I thought had always been some goofy, idiosyncratic symbol is really just a representation of a ratio, i.e. per cent, I was mildly wowed. By the seventies, though, I was back to the mundane, closing my eyes and trying to open them at the exact instant the number changed to its successor. Let me just say, justifiably, no one has ever complimented me on my rhythm. Suddenly, though, I was into the nineties, and the countdown to liftoff took over.

After the two percentage climbs of downloading and installing, I was presented with the next step in the process--"revising your settings." I blanched. Existentially, I feel like I've been perpetually revising my settings since the age of twelve--and I have the graying hair loss to prove it. And then the computer hit me--THIS MAY TAKE A FEW MOMENTS . . .

Good God, don't say that, then add that elipsis, almost as a winking insulting afterthought (which in words translates to "or this could take the rest of your sane life"). Is there a more ambiguity-laden/stuffed/crammed/overflowing sentence in any language than those six words--This may take a few moments? That specific "a" thrown in as cruel irony in the midst of five super-ambiguous, unspecific words. For your homework tonight, kids, meditate on the potential heinosity of the seemingly insignificant words "this," "may," "take," and "moments"; I'll take on "few" right here. Beauty might indeed lie in the eye of the beholder, but outside of a few of our crazy fellow humans, most of us cheer in roughly the same ballpark when it comes to beauty, right? You don't find too many people who'll switch the adjectives when talking about the wonderful smell of fresh coffee and the yuck odor of a hackle-raised skunk. But, in any context, try to get a few people to come up with a consensus of what exactly "few" represents and you're in for a McConnell-Reid donnybrook 100% of the time.  Just consider, at random, these phrases: "Oh, just a few beers," "Yeah, I've put on a few pounds since I first slipped into that wedding tux," or "The repairs to your automobile will cost you a few bucks, sir." You see? You'd think the dictionary, as usual, would provide, um, the definitive answer to the few quandry, right? Well, try this one on for size: "few--not many, but more than one; dating from before 900." Considering that "many" is just a few fewer ticks on the ambiguity meter than few, and that mankind is still trying to figure out the extent of "more than one," the dictionary definition of "few" fails miserably. Just what's a man to do when offered a bag of M&Ms and told to "have a few"?

These were just a few of my thoughts while staring at the "This may take a few moments" message on my computer screen, which was sorely lacking in a percentage climb. Few moments--can I go floss my teeth, walk the dog, tile the kitchen, or read War and Peace during the duration? What? In my lifetime, I've lost tons of data, sat through eight commercials, waited fifteen minutes for the next available teller, and spent an afternoon trying to channel a thousand dollars into my checking account in the auto repair waiting room. God bless her, but I bet Mrs. Hoffa is still waiting for Jimmy to return from his "this will only take a few moments" errand.

Lo and behold, though, the computer's few moments this time ended up being indeed not (too) many moments. And I've been basking in security ever since. Phew!, I said, and got on with my life. Phew!, I said? Indeed I did. Phew! (go ahead, try to type the word phew! without the exclamation point--few can, I bet). Wait a few moments, I said. There's got to be a connection. Few. Phew! Back to dictionary.com: phew--vocalic gesture expressing weariness, impatience, surprise, relief, etc., attested from 1604Um (I love definitions that send you flipping through a few more thumb-indexed pages in order to comprehend), vocalic--of, pertaining to, or resembling a vowel. Now I've long had my doubts about the relative collective wit and wisdom of the denizens of the early 17th century, but no more. After mankind somehow survived for more than a few hundred years with the nuisance word few, those Enlightened Elizabethans came up with a pretty good rejoinder to the potential woes of few, phew! Phew!, the natural response (see how it cuts both ways--weariness and impatience, but also surprise and relief) to the perils of few. Just think of your relieved phew! when hearing your designated driver say, "I had only two beers," or when you manage to shoehorn your flabbier body back into that tux, or when Mr. Goodwrench says the total comes to $297.17 (not to tangent here, but isn't $300 the threshold of all auto repairs? No matter how much money you do or don't have, anything under $300 and you feel lucky; anything over and you've been screwed).

So, indeed, I'm secure (computer-wise, at least) again, and it only took a few moments, enabling this screed. Back in a few days.

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