Drowning in a world of initials and acronyms

The invitation read: PS, BTW, FYI, BAB. CU!

AN INVITATION arrived from the AA – not Alcoholics Anonymous or the Automobile Association or the Architectural Association or the Academy Awards or Audits and Assessments or Air Ambulance or American Airlines, but from the Acronym Academy.

It’s a new organisation, formed to promote UIDCW, or the use of initials in documents and conversations worldwide.

“RSVP, ASAP,” read the invitation, followed by ‘PTO’.

I turned it over. “PS,” it read, “BTW, FYI, BAB. CU!”

By now I was beginning to feel out of my depth. “I know what PS means,” I said to my wife. “And then it’s by the way and for your information. But what is BAB?”

She looked puzzled: “It can only mean one of two things. Either Beavis and Butt-Head are going to be there, or we’re going to have to listen to a talk on biotechnology and applied biochemistry.”

“And what about CU?” I asked. “Are they suggesting there’s going to be a cover-up?”

“No,” she said. “That’s short for see you. EKT.” “EKT?” “Everybody knows that.” We arrived at the Acronym Academy in good time. A woman greeted us. “I’m the PA to the CEO of the AA,” she said. “I see you didn’t BAB, as instructed!” “BAB?” I asked. “OMG! Bring a bottle, FYI,” she replied. “OTOH, it’s a FAQ, so NM.” “NM?” “Never mind. TTYL!” “OIC,” I said, as I dipped into my phrase-book. “THX!”

At last, I felt I was getting the hang of it.

The ASAP ( annual summer/ autumn party) of the AA is never the most relaxing event. The world’s adherence to acronyms and abbreviations makes things tricky for those of us who grew up in an era when words were always completed, or CMPTD, as we are expected to say.

Undaunted, we went in, to be greeted by a man wearing an FOH badge, carrying a tray. “WINE,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching for a glass.

“No. WINE: the world is not enough,” he replied. I nodded sagely, pretending I understood what he was talking about. “WTF?” I whispered to my wife. “World Tennis Federation?” she said. “Surely they’re not here, too?”

“OYEZ! OYEZ!” said the MC. “L&G, PS for the MD!” “PS?” I shouted. “Pray silence,” said my wife. The MD, who looked like IDS, launched into a speech.

“Good 2CU,” he began, cheerily. “And TGIF! BTW, not to be OTT, but here at the AA we like a CV with a high IQ. OTOH, we also value a GSOH, OBVS! LOL! I hope I’m not going 2F4U! And now, WFA.”

“Without further ado,” whispered my wife. “Here’s your DJ! TYVM!”

The DJ started playing ELO, REM, AC/DC, INXS, CCS, CSN&Y, ABC, OMD and U2 on his MP3 player, followed by Run-DMC. Sadly, Jay-Z was N/A on CD, so the DJ played an LP of 10CC at 33RPM for the OAPs.

By the end of the evng, I found I was cmptly xorstd. “IMO,” I said to my wife, “This trend for abbreviations is driving me mad.” – Daily Mail