Hi my name is Hannah, and while I may be the Grammar Police’s Commanding Officer, I am the latest member to enlist in the Anti-Pronunciation riot squad. When did my membership commence? Last week, when I was in a fine dining restaurant ordering my meal.
“What would you be having this evening, ma’am?” The eloquent waiter asked, notepad at the ready.
“For entre I’d like to order the scallops”.
“Excellent choice, the scah-lleps are very fresh”…. Oh no scallops like dollops, or scallops like gallops… have I been saying it incorrectly my entire life?
“For main I will order the basil crusted beef fillet with potato and shallot salad”
“One bay-zhil fih-lay with potato and shah-luht salad,” He repeated my words as he scribbled down my order…. Come on, ba-zhil, fih-lett and shuh-lot are perfectly acceptable too right?….
“And for my dessert, wow those macaroons sound amazing; what filling do you recommend”
“Yes the mack-arh-rons are very popular here, especially the white chocolate and almond flavour”
….I ain’t got time for this. Bring me my food.
Multitasking; A fantastic time-saving skill to those who flaunt extreme skill, coordination and organisation. It provides an efficient solution to the web of procrastination that we persistently entwine ourselves in; representing the very means by which our society operates. It makes convenience even more convenient, taking expedience to the extreme. Ironically however, I ain’t got time for it.
Why you may ask? You see, I exhibit a severe case of butterfingers syndrome. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce myself; I am the bull in the china shop. My face frequently hi-fives the floor, my centre of gravity is nonexistent and I find myself constantly tripping over my two left feet. I am a walking hazard, and when walking hazards attempt to multitask, disaster strikes. When gravity is your enemy, not only will nothing get done, you may wind up defending your negligence before a judge in a courtroom. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Continue reading
If you’re standing by a cash register purchasing a train pass, a flat white or lottery ticket and have your coins out, calculated and ready to be handed over seamlessly, blessings be unto you my friend. But if the phrase “I think I may have 45 cents in here somewhere” frequently finds its way into your daily repertoire, and is proceeded by you foraging through your bag like a possum digging through mounds of junk… I ain’t got time for you.