We speak using words, and the words we use speak for us. Upon seeing a kitten, one might sigh, the cuteness too hard to handle, and describe it as that – cute. Upon seeing a tank, stupefied by its sheer size, the word that is the quickest to spring to one’s mind might be huge. Monstrous, even. Yet, I can’t recall ever having seen a monstrous kitten, nor do I know anybody who has ever seen a cute tank. The words we use to position ourselves in relation to everything outside of us need to be exact; we always aim for the head of the nail. Only when we can properly identify and name whatever it is what we see can we be active participants in the world. That is simple enough. The more we can say about what’s in front of us, the more shape it takes… but doesn’t it also work the other way around? The words we know – don’t they shape us and how we think, too? A blast from the past. Four years ago, in my senior class in high school, I had to attend, because I was in a bilingual group, an extra class, called Business English. It was taught by an affable teacher who wore glasses thicker than some icebergs in the Arctic – a simile that would have made no sense had it been made a couple decades ago, but here we are. She would extend our – me and my classmates’ – vocabulary by introducing words having to do with business, finance, marketing, and so forth. She would teach us how to write a cover letter. Though most of my classmates ignored it, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, what with the Matura exams, I listened, bent on soaking up as much knowledge as I could. I made extensive notes. Not without a reason, for I had applied, at the beginning of the senior year, for a Bachelor’s Degree in Marketing and Communications at De Montfort University in Leicester. Because of that, I conditioned myself to pay attention during that particular class, confident that the words I had learned would come in handy later, after the exams. On the university, everything I had only heard about in this class once or twice I would learn in depth; I would learn the theory, and later put it into practice. Or so I thought. As it happened, a series of unfortunate events entailed, and I didn’t start the university that year despite having gotten in. I won’t go into details, but I started my Bachelor’s degree three years later, in Poland, in English Philology. What a turn on events: I was supposed to study business. I study words. (Among many other things.) However, certain phrases I had learned in the Business English class remain constant. Particularly: unique selling preposition. The unique thing that makes a company attractive, something no other company can offer. Pizza delivered in 30 minutes or less, or else it’s free. Free delivery of every order. (For legal reasons, I won’t name names, but you get the gist.) I think of it often, and I look for unique selling prepositions in my own life. Okay, I am bad at this particular thing, but what do I bring to the table that others can’t? After a bad day: is there something I wouldn’t have learned if this thing hadn’t happened to me? Things rarely go as planned, but there’s something unique about anyone, any experience. Perhaps that’s what all of it comes down to.
Artykuł opublikowany w ramach konkursu pisarskiego „Język w biznesie i życiu”
Autor: Tomasz Chudobski