Many years ago, I bought a new car. But, then again, I didn’t.
I was an inexperienced youth in a den of iniquity, a car dealership. Across the showroom floor I was drawn by the siren call of a shiny, sporty model. Ah, what a beauty she was. But out of my league.
As I turned away an unctuous salesman appeared. He pointed out the jaunty tilt of the bonnet. He gave me a scandalous glimpse of the curvaceous wheel arches. He whispered of exotic automotive pleasures too beguiling to resist.
This cruel tempter, hiding his black heart behind a sycophantic smile and a gravy-stained tie, sensed the kill. He played his trump card: a price that made me swoon.
There were couple of hundred miles on the clock, but love is blind. Delivery mileage, I airily assumed.
A few days later the logbook revealed the “catch”. I was the second owner, the dealership was the first. It was, in effect, a second-hand car. Back in the showroom I inquired why this hadn’t been made plain. The sales reptile said: “Well did you ask me if it was a new car?”
I will darken their doorstep (great saying) no more.
Burned by the flame of experience, I have grown to regard that most egregious part of language – the sales pitch – with deep suspicion. Never again will I trust weasel words oozing from a mouth filled with deceit and ill-fitting dentures.
Furniture stores are just as bad. When you walk in, a salesperson assures you they are merely on hand should you need assistance. But then they dog your steps. They follow like a hungry puppy, eager to point out the fabulous fabrics and fantastic features of faux-leather footstools.
I was reminded of this when speaking to a friend who had a new boiler fitted. The sales pitch promised “first service free”. It transpired this service was a check done by workmen putting in the appliance. That surely isn’t a service? It is part of installation. It’s a question of terminology, the definitions of “installation” and “service”.
I detest tricks of the tongue, false phrases, words twisted to obfuscate. I feel almost resentful. It’s as if the language is complicit in sordid acts. Why does it allow words to have multiple meanings if those meanings are used to hoodwink?
Word of the week
Unctuous (adjective)
Flattering, ingratiating, oily. EG: “The unctuous smile of a man with pound signs in his eyes and malice in his heart.”
Read the latest Oh my word! every Saturday in The Courier. Contact me at sfinan@dctmedia.co.uk
