It seems that it is too often that we allow our laziness to invade into our language, more than it should, like couch-potato words, I guess.  Our laziness with words borders on abuse and sometimes at least torture —of innocent and well-meaning little words. In fact, as a reminder, some of you may remember my eloquent, but silly treatise on the stupid ways we use the word “up”.  My attempt with that piece to rehabilitate the abused word “up” failed miserably so I gave up before I threw up.

Unfortunately, pronouns have become popular the last few years, for really stupid reasons, and when I was in grade school, I never knew they would be so politically charged. In fact, the pronoun that I feel is being abused and tortured too much now is We.

Yes, you read this correctly.  We.

Although I have a huge entourage of paparazzi following me everywhere because I am a famous author in my own mind, there are occasions when I sit in a restaurant, eating alone.  Not infrequently the waitress (yes, usually, but not always, a female worker) will come to me and say, “Are we hungry tonight?”  I look around me and even behind my table to see what group of people she is referring to.  Then, I realize, she really is talking to me.  Little ol’ me. So, after a very brief delay, I smiled respectfully and said, “I hear your stomach rumbling, so I guess We are.“

She displayed some shiny white teeth that nearly blinded me with her wide smile, unaware of what just happened, took my order and left.  After I finished dinner, she came back, smiling again and said, “Are We having dessert?”

I then replied, “yes we are, and that’s why We will enjoy chocolate cake together with wine after your work is over.”  I had a feeling the chocolate cake and wine ploy would be risky, but who knows, it could be irresistible to her, so in fact, there are occasions when I do get a phone number, and of course, I accept her phone number despite her obvious abuse of the innocent word We.

On another occasion, I was sitting alone somewhere —a café or bar, and it happened again, but this time with a slightly more creative twist: The waitress (female server as they are now known), asked, “Are We enjoying ourselves tonight?”  I controlled myself and decided not to say, I was happy until you called me, We 48 times tonight but I am single.  Uno.  One.  Or perhaps I had a temptation to say, “Did you mean you saw me here with my imaginary friend Lolita?  She can only be seen by me by the way, so don’t include her in the conversation unless you too can see her sitting next to me in all her glorious feminine splendor.”

Clearly, I think it is important that we try to figure out where this abuse of the pronoun We first occurred, when in fact it was referring to the singular person. Was with one of those French words, or phrases that the English language incorporated back in the 1800s for us cowboy Americans to add to our language in order to sound sophisticated and urban? For example, Sui Generis, Soi disant or nice derriere come to mind.  Did this come from a French immigrant back then, who liked to say “oui” constantly, no matter what the occasion? Or, was it started with the WOKE conflagration of our culture, which is carefully inclusive of all so called (Soi disant) genders that a person suddenly decides they are.  You know, man, woman, they, it, gender fluid, or perhaps cat, depending on what they feel?

So, I prefer that when I am alone, that servers don’t call me We, but instead, since I am definitely a man, they can say: “Hey man, what will it be today?”  Or, “Hi sir, do you know what you want to order today?”  But please know that I am never gender fluid and I do not have multiple personalities, or at least I will never display them openly.   And, If I am sitting alone, please be aware that I am not plural.   After all, only I can see Lolita, and she does not talk to strangers because I told her you can never be too safe in this world.

Are We clear on this?

©S.R. Carson Publications, 2023