See the dog and the violin? It’s amusing, perhaps, and certainly peculiar. But if that dog picks up the violin and starts to play, our feelings about the situation will likely be one of amazement. Until then, however, it’s just a dog and a violin.
Really? “That’s all ya got?”
Let’s take ‘em in order.
“Amazing”.
Are you, in fact, amazed? We all say things we don’t really mean because easy expressions lubricate ordinary interactions. Euphemisms become defaults because we generally do not want to risk being misunderstood in transactions that we privately hope will take a minimum of time or effort. Communicative erosion accelerates, however, because conveniently disposable expressions like “amazing” begin to undervalue the whole idea of the word in the first place. Things get harder to describe—or less easily differentiated—when a person comes upon something that genuinely warrants bonafide amazement. The day you experience a Weimaraner playing Paginini’s 1st violin concerto at the roundabout outside your hotel, you might be forgiven for the description: that’s amazing. But if something doesn’t genuinely provoke amazement, think of another word.
“Have a nice day.”
Part of the challenge here concerns daily needs people have for polite ways to conclude person-to-person interactions. The expression “have a nice day” presents something that, even if said sarcastically, resists easily dissolution into misconstrued abrasiveness. It’s an expression that essentially expedites our interactions, but that’s not to say I take it very seriously. I try hard to avoid using it. Here’s my problem: it’s not saying anything. It’s lubricant without engine. It’s caloric intake without flavor. It’s a couch wrapped in plastic.
To be clear, I’m not at all promoting an avoidance of social graces, of politeness, or civility, or even good manners, fungible though those may be in the context of different cultural norms. Even something ordinary and innocuous like “Enjoy your morning,” suggests an active charge that imparts intention, passing from the speaker to the listener. “Have a nice day” proceeds with an indistinct call to action in the verb, and a vaporous description of time resisting any real substance in the adjective. Consider something else next time you want to politely conclude a conversation.
“Impactful”.
What are you talking about? I would have ended the preceding sentence with a rhetorical exclamation point, but it wouldn’t have read as a question on your screen. Did you mean to say that something “was full of impact?”
Speaking of questions, let’s get something out of the way: just because a word may be real does not give it automatic license to function as a good vehicle for communications. Impactful has a linguistic history of almost a century, but like an old landline phone that may get a basic job done, there are many better options to deliver what you need. When a person says “impactful” he or she is most likely trying to say that one thing has a substantial influence on something else. This comes with an ironic corollary, considering that the imputed influence of the word’s usage usually connotes a positive outcome. I don’t know about you, but most impacts I’ve experienced either in real life or via vicarious exposure usually result in stuff getting busted. Crash! Boom!
The root itself conveys a nuance that, modified into an adjective, presents a sloppy sense of what you probably mean. Therefore you should ask yourself, “What are you really trying to say?” If you’re looking for a way to describe the positive influence of a decision or a policy, find a phrase to convey that idea. If you’re looking for a means to convey the long lasting influence of a social change or a political movement, take a beat to say as much. But if you’re using this word to vaguely describe significant influence, you may think you’re being expeditious, but your ambiguity and imprecision will actually have very little impact on your audience. (As the kids say, “See what I did there?”)
Language matters. When we use it without precision, we sow seeds of misunderstanding, which ultimately inculcates friction. It’s not that every utterance out of our mouths—or thumbs, considering the brief-text-based world that seems to be the new lingua franca—should read like a term paper. Instead, we should take a moment in our various forms of communications to consider that when we use imprecise words the nuance in our intended meanings are often lost. When what we mean gets diluted by imprecision often enough, we begin to lose firm grasps on what each other deeply believes. Communication erodes at levels beyond the verbal. When that happens, how can we expect the nuances of our relationships—of how we understand each other beyond exchanges of mere quantitative information—to achieve a measure of ease and depth beyond ordinary transactional exchanges?
Think about it…and have a nice day.