Why doesn’t anybody ever write to say that the 75 sentences in a recent column were accurate? Is there any other job in which one’s effort seems destined to invite corrections?
To get to the point:
In a recent column, “We must mind our g’s and q’s,� in which I recalled having studied typefaces as they used to be formed — backwards and upside-down — I mentioned that a printer at the Optic once plucked a letter out of a chase for me to examine and identify. My greatest difficulty was with the lowercase “b,� “g,� “p� and “q.�
Well, almost immediately there came an e-mail from Eddie Groth, an Immaculate Conception School alumnus, who later taught printing at Highlands and won awards as a sports information director at Highlands, UNM and NMSU. He later became New Mexico State’s public information director.
He said that I had described the wrong item. Groth’s e-mail stressed that he doubted whether “a printer handed you single letters from the chase. The chase is an iron or steel frame in which type forms are locked for letterpress printing presses. You probably were handed type from a California Case, which was the most popular type storage case.�
Eddie’s right, but I missed it by just one letter. What a difference an “h� makes.
•••
Several people reacted to October’s column on “sapos.� What piqued my interest was people’s questions as to whether a sapo refers strictly to a onetime event or whether it can spread over a season, as in the case of cellar-dwellers one year winning the pennant the next year. Did the ‘Huskers in the movie “Hoosiers� receive a sapo-dom boon when they won the state championship?
The dictionary defines sapo as a toad and gives secondary meanings as a person with low self-esteem, a secret keeper and one who tries to hide his identity. But at least in this part of New Mexico, sapo generally refers to a lucky shot, usually in basketball.
Ron Maestas, longtime professor, author, dean and cross-country coach at Highlands, who’s been active as an athletic official, asked whether the four-game sweep the Boston Red Sox handed the Colorado Rockies would qualify as a sapo. To this I offer an unequivocal no. Sapos refer only to lucky shots.
We could in turn ask Maestas whether there was sapo-ness sapo-ness when some of his cross-country teams at Highlands made it to nationals. Well, Ron, the policy is that sapos can’t occur without some kind of ball, so unless the harriers were also dribbling a ball, there’s no sapo.
Ernie Martinez of Camp Luna, who has a sign next to his house that reads: “Parking for Denver Bronco fans only,� said a sapo is simple to define: “If you knock the ball in from mid-court, that’s a sapo.�
And was it a sapo Monday when Brett Favre of the Green Bay Packers connected with receiver Gregg Jennings on an 82-yard pass play in the first seconds of an overtime game against Ernie’s favorite team?
In no way can that be a sapo. Ya see, Favre & Company planned the play that way. It was the quarterback’s skill, not sapo-ness that beat the Broncos.
Ben Moffett, a former sports writer with the Journal, called for moredetails of the sapo I mentioned that was performed by my former Railroad Avenue neighbor David Vigil, back in ‘59 or ‘60.
Moffett said he’d discussed hoops with former coach and current Mayor Henry Sanchez, and the term “Tira, Tira� came up.
“Tira� is the imperative voice for “shoot,� which describes a ballhog such as Kobe Bryant. Lots of players might say, “That guy’s a ‘Tira, Tira,’ Bro.�
But efforts to translate the concept of “Tira, Tira� to English, as “Shoot, Shoot� just don’t cut it. We can say, “That guy’s a tira, tira,� but we can never say, “He’s a real shoot, shoot.� Do we dare then attempt a literal translation of ballhog?
Since ball is bola and hog is cerdo, that would make the over-eager monopolizing player un cerdo de bola or even una bola de cerdo. Sounds awful. Better stick to “ballhog� or “Tira, Tira.�
•••
When Wal-Mart came to town last century, I was curious about a sticker attached to each register. It had the word “chant� in capital letters.
I asked a checker what it meant and she said it’s an acronym for “Customers Have A Name Too.� It was flattering when, after I used my debit card or write a check, someone addressed me by name.
I haven’t seen a “CHANT� sticker in years or perceived many residual effects of it either.
Last week, with the opening of an ALCO outlet in Mills Plaza, many of us checked it out. As I paid for my purchases, I heard the customer service representative say to me, “We’ll see you again tomorrow — and the next day too.�
What? Did the mere use of a debit card tie me to a contract with ALCO, requiring my attendance daily? Regardless, I was there the next day with my wife, the day after with my son and the day after that too, with my grand-daughters.
What interested me was the personal interest the staff appears to have in its customers. The checker who predicted my return is named Larissa. I appreciate her ability to look me in the eye, use my name and invite me to return to the store. As I left the store, I noticed that Larissa greeted every other customer in a friendly, professional way.
ALCO made a wise hire when it chose Larissa, among others. Many of the staff there perceive customers not as an interruption of their job but as the reason for it.
It made me realize that having a polite, dedicated and friendly staff is largely why people return.
Same with restaurants: good service trumps good food, although nobody ought to complain if the restaurants have both.