Maple leaf or olive branch – a sorry state of affairs
‘Sorry seems to be the hardest word.’’ Bernie Taupin and Elton John are obviously not Canadian. ‘‘Sorry’’ is one of the easiest words for Canucks. They use it constantly, and in nothing like an awesome way.
YouTube even hosts tutorials that guide non-natives through the 12 variations of ‘‘sorry’’ in the land of the maple leaf. The last one is genuine contrition – ‘‘you may never hear a Canadian use it, but it’s common enough on TV’’.
My sister lived in Canada for three years, and loved it – they adopted her like one of their own. As an outsider, though, she had 20-20 vision on the culture. Her work included conflict resolution, and she says that at ‘‘clear-the-air’’ meetings, both sides often apologised so profusely they walked away seething with the aggro they walked in with.
‘‘A friend noted that Canadians are classic passive-aggressives. Ultimately, you can’t figure out who you can trust to be honest.’’
Hailing as many Kiwis do from the same colonial rootstock – Britons reportedly say ‘‘sorry’’ roughly eight times a day – I won’t hear a word against passive-aggressiveness. It built an empire.
We wouldn’t want to be exploding with emotion like Continentals, or pulling a gun like Americans.
No, a little polite festering resentment never did anyone harm, except the festerer. (Note to self: Google the incidence of stomach ulcers in Canada.)
But if Canucks are so polite, I inquired, how do they vent the frustrations that are part of life? Everyone needs a safety valve.
Ice hockey and dope, Sis replied.
Push a Canuck aside, and he will apologise for getting in your way. Kick his dog, and he will offer to pay for any damage to your shoes. Buy him a ticket to an ice hockey game, and he will scream himself purple, lusting for blood.
Literally. The rink is commonly stained red, sprinkled with the white of dislodged teeth. It’s a vicious, gladiatorial sport, and the timid Canadians love every gory second.
Outside of the stadiums, they anaesthetise themselves on legal dope, apparently. A walk down some city streets can be an invitation to get high on second-hand smoke. More than a few of those smart, urbane, gentle Canadians are chronic stoners – while being purse-lipped over tobacco smoking, one suspects.
Alcohol is a worse intoxicant, for sure, and we don’t handle it well. My fear is that decriminalising weed here will just double our trouble. Then again, tucking a dope ‘‘crutch’’ under the other arm might balance up the national gait.
Or not. Talk with any secondary school teacher who has worked in a bong culture like Northland and you’ll come down on the side of capital punishment.
Incidentally, Ontario decriminalised apologising in 2009. You read right. The Legislative Assembly decreed that ‘‘sorry’’ ‘‘means an expression of sympathy or regret’’ and is not ‘‘an admission of fault or liability in connection with the matter to which the words or actions relate’’.
In plain English, the flurry of ‘‘sorrys’’ after any mishap won’t bite you on the bum in court.
That dirty dozen of apologia on YouTube might seem excessive, yet they missed a couple that are universal.
There’s the pre-sentencing ‘‘sorry’’ where you’ve put your victims through years of legal torment and expense. With a guilty verdict in and sentencing nigh, you express contrition through your lawyer – who probably has ‘‘Remorse’’ text on a laptop template.
The other ‘‘sorry’’ is much favoured by politicians and business CEOs. I call it ‘‘The Weasel’’ – courage and cowardice in the one paragraph – and heard it trotted out recently. You know the one, where they express regret that some people may have been hurt by their actions. It fools no-one. Your audience bristle that you don’t have the decency to apologise for those actions.
How should it be done? ‘‘The best way to handle a crisis is to just be open and honest with your audience,’’ says American communications manager Joe Culotta. ‘‘The sooner you apologise and admit your mistake, the sooner people can forgive you.’’
My recent speaker should have heeded Joe and taken the mic firmly in hand: ‘‘Look, we stuffed up. You have our sincere regrets, and we’ve changed our procedures so that it won’t happen again.’’
As for Canadians, flaws aside, I like hearing the accent in a crowd. They’re good people. Society falls apart without manners, and Canada’s mettle in defeating Hitler is undervalued. To this day, they stand beside Kiwis in peacekeeping missions worldwide.
Bottom line: right now, we need buffers against the chaos in the United States. Canucks are probably all for Trump’s wall – he’s just building it on the wrong border.
What set off this musing is a gift to my grandson of his first money box. As a ‘‘Terrible Two’’, he’s quickly mastering language tools to get his way. Time to upskill the numeracy.
I stupidly dubbed it ‘‘The Awesome Box’’, where I’d donate a dollar every time I encountered the Kiwi verbal tic. My wallet haemorrhaged – even my ‘‘keep-cup’’ advises me to ‘‘Stay Awesome’’. The little tyke realised he was going to be rich. A rebranding to ‘‘The Sorry Box’’ is imminent. At just eight donations a day, the savings will be, um, awesome.
Tucking a dope ‘crutch’ under the other arm might balance up the national gait.