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Instead of referring to this new millennium as the Information Age, I’m wondering if maybe we should call it the Abbreviation Age. Or better yet, ABCs ‘R Us. Acronyms are sprouting up everywhere, and the resulting maze of verbal shortcuts seem to impede, rather than lead, to clearer communication.

Some shortcuts have already become standard fare in the English language. If we need something done quickly, we ask for it ASAP. If we need help, we send an SOS. Even Dear Abby used to advise telling the frequent busybody to MYOB.

Industry and government use acronyms freely. A notice from the IRS clearly spells trouble. Likewise, drinking and driving means risking arrest for DUI, or DWI, as well as incurring the wrath of MADD. (Not to mention the risk of injury that might result in a trip to the ER for a battery of CT scans, EEGs, or ECGs to assess bodily damage.) We understand that certain acronyms are necessary evils.

Now, with the onslaught of information technology (IT), our language simmers with abbreviations–like one huge pot of alphabet soup. Computer programs and music come on CDs, movies we used to pop into our VCRs are now available on DVD–just understanding this new terminology is like learning a new language.

Consider the following true dialogue I once had with a customer service representative (CSR) from an Internet Service Provider (ISP).

Me: My company is looking for high-speed Internet access. Can you tell me what’s available?

CSR: We offer both ADSL and SDSL, depending on your company’s needs. ISDN is on the way out, so if you don’t need a T1, DSL is the way to go. How many computers do you have?

Me: Less than twenty.

CSR: Great. You can probably get away with 384 Kbps. How many IPs would you need?

Me: Huh?

CSR: IP addresses. You know, IPs?

No, I didn’t know. And I was beginning to feel stupid. Why did this man think I spoke his language? I was a paralegal, not a programmer.

He took a deep noisy breath, and I pictured him rolling his eyes in disgust. To his credit, though, his ensuing monologue didn’t condescend as he patiently explained to me more than I ever wanted to know about digital subscriber lines, Internet Protocol addresses, and the attendant technologies involved in getting my company high-speed Internet access.

I scribbled furiously on a legal pad as he spoke–cheat sheets for subsequent calls I’d be making. By the time he wound up his sales pitch forty-five minutes later, I spoke fluent Computerese.

As I wrote my thoroughly researched report later that afternoon, complete with all the necessary acronyms, I couldn’t help thinking how impressed my boss would be with my mastery of technospeak.

He wasn’t. After scanning the report for only a brief moment, he tossed it across his desk at me and said, “This looks good. Can you please rewrite it in English so the other partners and I can understand it?”

I was flabbergasted. I’d learned a whole new language in one short day and he only wanted me to translate it for him.

Stupid acronyms anyway! Spewing mysterious terms at the uninitiated only served to waste time. You always had to go back and break it down into itty-bitty, digestable bites anyway. Whatever happened to the KISS principle (Keep It Simple, Silly)?

Instant gratification can be, well, gratifying, but these verbal shortcuts are interfering with normal functioning. We can’t carry around stacks of cheat sheets just so we won’t look dumb in conversation.

Even watching television now can be a challenge without a cheat sheet. TVY7 means your children under seven years of age shouldn’t be watching. MA means mature audiences only. During the Winter Olympics, you might watch X-sports that presumably included skiing events like the super-G and the PGS. Does the average American really know what these word jumbles mean?

Simple conversations would be far more understandable if people would just say what they mean, without all the cutesy terms. I would have been quite satisfied with my conversation with that CSR if he had just said, “Yes, we can give you fast Internet access. How many people need access? How many need email? Okay, you can get X speed, with Y number of email addresses, for Z dollars a month.”

That’s all the information my boss wanted anyway. Just the facts. In plain English.

Lesson learned.

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Copyright 2002 by Angel Brown. All rights reserved.