What they say, and what they re­ally mean

Walker County Messenger - - Front Page - David Car­roll News and Notes

Have you no­ticed that many peo­ple sim­ply do not tell the truth? In so many cases, peo­ple both fa­mous and or­di­nary do not say what they re­ally mean. The same goes for busi­nesses. As a pub­lic ser­vice, I would like to list a few of the more com­mon false­hoods, fol­lowed by the truth.

When an embattled politi­cian or busi­ness owner says, “I am re­sign­ing to spend more time with my fam­ily,” he re­ally means, “I’m jump­ing out be­fore I get pushed.”

Six months later, when the same guy hur­riedly ac­cepts the first job of­fer that comes his way, he says, “It was a dif­fi­cult de­ci­sion to make, but af­ter talk­ing it over with my fam­ily, we agreed that I should ac­cept this won­der­ful op­por­tu­nity.” What he re­ally means is, “Thank good­ness, I’m fi­nally out of the house! I got a job of­fer!”

When a prospec­tive politi­cian tells the press, “Peo­ple are urg­ing me to run for of­fice, but I’m still ex­plor­ing the pos­si­bil­ity of a race,” he re­ally means, “I wish some peo­ple would urge me to run, and bet­ter yet, send some money my way!”

When the com­pany memo says, “He has left the com­pany to pur­sue other in­ter­ests,” it of­ten means, “We caught him in the act, and he has prob­a­bly crossed the state line by now.”

When some­one be­gins their con­ver­sa­tion with you by say­ing, “With all due re­spect…” you are prob­a­bly about to get no re­spect. Same goes with, “No of­fense, but....” You can count on this: you are about to be of­fended.

Once you reach a cer­tain age (or so I hear), a per­son you haven’t seen in years will walk up and say, “My good­ness, for your age, you sure are look­ing good!” What they re­ally mean is, “Wow! I had no idea you were still alive.”

When the com­pany memo says, “We are re­or­ga­niz­ing to bet­ter serve our cus­tomers,” it usu­ally means, “We are lay­ing off a huge chunk of em­ploy­ees, and the ones who are still here will have to do twice as much work.”

When the recorded voice on the phone says, “Your call is very im­por­tant to us, please stay on the line,” it re­ally means, “If you were truly that im­por­tant to us, a hu­man would be speak­ing to you now.”

When the re­cep­tion­ist tells you the doc­tor can see you at 9 a.m. Thurs­day, it means you’d bet­ter pack a lunch, be­cause thir­teen other peo­ple are also sched­uled to see him at 9 a.m. Thurs­day.

When the sign says, “Pain- free den­tist,” it is ac­tu­ally true. The den­tist won’t feel a thing.

When the wait­ress hands you the menu and says, “Ev­ery­body’s rav­ing about our oven-roasted chicken to­day,” she means, “We bought WAY too much chicken. Would you please or­der some?”

When a wife says, “We need all-new liv­ing room fur­ni­ture,” the hus­band of­ten replies, “Let me think about it.” What he re­ally means is, “If I stall long enough, she will for­get about it.” (Spoiler alert: she will never, ever for­get about it.)

When the road con­struc­tion man­ager says, “We ex­pect to have this widen­ing project com­plete in a year, weather per­mit­ting,” that means you can add a month for ev­ery day it rains.

When the real es­tate ad de­scribes an old house as “stun­ning,” that could mean many things. Of­ten I am stunned it is still stand­ing.

When a po­lit­i­cal can­di­date says, “I will vote to raise taxes only as a last re­sort,” he re­ally means, “I will vote to raise taxes.”

When a base­ball an­nouncer says, “What a day for Jones! He re­ally brought his A-game to­day,” he re­ally means, “Most days, he just shows up to pick up his pay­check.”

When the on­line ho­tel ad says, “Our rooms have a rus­tic fla­vor, with clas­sic dé­cor,” it re­ally means, “We haven’t changed the car­pet or the cur­tains since 1966.”

When the big oil com­pa­nies say, “We must raise gas prices im­me­di­ately be­cause we’ve heard there are strong winds in the Gulf,” they re­ally mean, “We’ve been look­ing for an ex­cuse to jack up gas prices, and now we’ve found it. We’re gonna keep ‘em jacked up as long as we can get away with it!”

When the store ad says, “Buy this re­frig­er­a­tor, and get a $100 re­bate by mail,” what they re­ally mean is, “Hey, if we re­ally wanted to give you $100, we’d hand it over now. We’re hop­ing you’ll for­get to mail in the re­bate!”

And in all fair­ness, I must tell one on my­self. When I check that lit­tle box that says, “I have read and agreed to all terms and con­di­tions,” I re­ally mean, “There’s no way I’m go­ing to read all that fineprint gob­bledy-gook. Let’s get on with this!”

David Car­roll, a Chat­tanooga news an­chor, is the au­thor of the new book “Vol­un­teer Bama Dawg,” a col­lec­tion of his best sto­ries, avail­able at Chat­tanoogaRa­dioTV. com, or by send­ing $23 to David Car­roll Book, 900 White­hall Road, Chat­tanooga, TN 37405. You may con­tact David at 3dc@epbfi.com

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