Bombing Berlin (My Word!)

Words are strange creatures, aren't they? I recently read this New York Times article about Berlin's attraction as a graffiti capital, as a place where "bombing," or graffiti-spraypainting, thrives, altering the urban landscape.

Approximately seventy percent of Berlin's urban landscape was altered by a different brand of bombing in World War II. You can still see pockmarked buildings as evidence, as well as the remains of the world-famous Kaiser Wilhelm Gedachtniskirche, not far from the Berlin Zoo and not far from KaDeWe, a luxury store ("it's da bomb!" in Eighties lingo), and not too far from the Opera, where a bad performance would bomb.

I have never gotten bombed in Berlin, and hope and pray not to when I am there next week (or else my ruination would indeed be more than seventy percent).

What words are on your mind?

Give me one.

It is as hard to proffer just one layered linguistic gem of a word as it is to eat just one cashew or one chocolate candy or one potato chip (or partake of just one of This Or That of a swarm of addictions, named and unnamed).

Give me one word of thy choosing , O Blogosphere! One word that ripples with ambiguity.

The pebble tossed into placid Lake Semantic.

Give me your one word.

This will be the easiest comment you ever posted.

Or the hardest.

How's That Sit With You?

In Berlin, I have had the distinct pleasure of visiting one of Europe's most luxurious department stores, KaDeWe, short for Kaufhaus des Westens. Only minutes from the Zoo Bahnhof, KaDeWe is filled with upscale clothes, accessories, and gourmet food. And more! (As copywriters like to throw in there.) On the top floor, there are stations exhibiting fresh, exotic foods, including pastries, coffees, chocolates, truffles, and a cornucopia of lush delicacies. You can buy a cup of coffee for about 3 euros and sit by windows offering panoramic views of Berlin (well, para-panoramic: one side of the building). And when you purchase this cup of coffee, or strudel, or smoked salmon, you pay (dearly but you don't mind) a lovely cashier sitting comfortably at a computerized checkout register. Go back seven words in the preceding sentence. She (or he, as the case may be) is sitting comfortably. And the cashier presumably can sit all day.

Contrast that with our premier local supermarket chain, Wegmans, renowned for being one of the best places to work in the United States. In fact, it is currently listed Number 3 on Fortune magazine's list of best places to work, and was Number 1 as recently as 2005. (While I disagree with the explanation, the company's website even addresses the issue of the missing apostrophe in the store's name.) Anyway, Wegmans cashiers all stand up, all the time, unless they are granted a break or have a disability.

I've used two extreme examples, KaDeWe Berlin and Wegmans Inc., because each is a showcase, premier store. But I am pretty sure it is common in all of Germany, and maybe all of Europe, for cashiers to be afforded the pleasure of a seat. Just as it is common in the USA, not just at Wegmans, to see cashiers standing.

Can someone explain this to me?

I myself have stood at a register (a long time ago). It kills your back. And your legs.

Does it all have to do with some kind of Puritan work ethic in America, home of the union movement? Fear of presenting a slovenly appearance? Something about productivity?

Hard to fathom, especially if you are comparing the modern-day U.S. to the forever industrious and dutiful Germany, home of Max Weber and his "The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism."

So, what gives?

Can someone give me any plausible explanation why Wegmans, as well as most, if not all, of its competitors, can't find it in their hearts to let the cashiers sit down?

Are there stores (grocery or otherwise) out there that let their folks sit comfortably?

What gives?

Weigh in, folks.

Stand up for sitting down!

Maybe we can start a movement right here.

Just in time for those Labor Day speeches.