The limits of fluent

I was once checking in at a remote airport in the middle of China when I saw a sign behind the airline representative that made me erupt in a fit of giggles. “We take your bags and we send them all over the world!” it proclaimed proudly.

Trying to convey to the well-meaning Air China representative why this was so funny proved to be a non-starter. “It is not correct?” she enquired, sadly. “Yes and no. It’s hard to explain. But it doesn’t matter”.

It didn’t matter, of course. My bags arrived in Beijing, and subsequently at Heathrow. But this mistake – the result of someone who thought they could speak perfect English being allowed to print a sign - is repeated ad infinitum around the world in contexts where it does matter. Where the worst that can happen isn’t that a foreign tourist might have a good laugh on the last day of their holiday – it’s that you will look unprofessional to potential customers.

There’s a very odd phenomenon – let’s call it monolingual hubris – where people who are really, really careful about their own language, and would be horrified to send out anything with a misplaced comma or wrong adjectival ending, think it’s absolutely fine to publish something they’ve written in another language without getting it thoroughly checked first.

I know, because I’ve suffered from monolingual hubris myself: I once tried writing a website in French. It took me days. Weeks, even. I felt terribly clever when I’d finished. Gramatically it was virtually flawless. There was one small problem. It just didn’t read like French. It was the website equivalent of taking your bags and sending them all over the world.

There are a few exceptions to this rule, Samuel Beckett being the obvious one. But most of us are not Beckett. I’m fine with that, and now announce cheerfully to clients that I don’t write in French, but can introduce them to a great French copywriter if they need one.