When Speech Counts
When I telephoned Shellie Bader at Clear Speech Inc., her secretary thought I was saying my name was Omar Teemus.
Usually, people think I’m saying Elmer Teenez, which is closer to my real name than Omar Teemus, but as I’ve gotten older my tendency to mumble has increased.
“What can we do for you, Omar?” the secretary asked.
“MY NAME ISN’T OMAR AND I WANT TO TALK TO SHELLIE BADER!”
I probably shouldn’t have hollered, but making oneself clear is the way it ought to be. Americans aren’t supposed to mumble.
I learned that later from Bader herself, who explained that in this country we usually talk with our lips apart and move our mouths a lot.
While people from, say, the Philippines tend to speak softly and not project, we jump into your face and demand to know WHAT’S GOING ON AROUND HERE and DON’T YOU PEOPLE HAVE NO CHEESEBURGERS IN THIS PLACE!
I’m not sure why I mumble. Bader suggested that Native Americans tend to mumble more than, well, Later Americans, and perhaps I have some Native American genes in me.
I was going to point out that they didn’t seem to be mumbling when they sent Custer and his gang to cavalry hell at Little Bighorn, but I was at Clear Speech TO LEARN ABOUT PROJECTING AND SPEAKING CLEARLY, not to argue.
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This all began one day when I was at a restaurant in Woodland Hills called Khara Indian Oven. The waiter, who was from New Delhi, began asking me questions, but his accent was so thick I couldn’t understand him.
I assumed he was asking for my order, so I said, “I want the tandoori chicken.” But because I mumble, he couldn’t understand me.
We were in limbo until my wife, Cinelli, stepped in and determined that he was asking if I knew who the secretary of state was.
“What the hell’s that got to do with my chicken?” I said.
She faced the waiter. “HE WANTS TO KNOW WHAT THE HELL THAT HAS TO DO. . . . “
“Never mind,” I said, jabbing my finger at the menu, “just bring me that and that!”
We learned later that the waiter amuses himself by testing Americans on their knowledge. A degree in government, while not required, is advisable for anyone who anticipates eating there.
The incident got me thinking about accents. I began noticing how many merchants in the city have them.
The reason for this, according to my research, is that 90 languages are spoken by students in L.A.’s school district. It’s their fathers, mothers and uncles who own or are working at the places I patronize.
It was during my research that I came across Shellie Bader, who specializes in accent reduction. I went to her wanting to know if there was any secret to understanding people from other countries who, although they speak English, speak it like the waiter at Khara Indian Oven.
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Bader took time to explain the importance of things like upward pitch glides and linkage junctions. She has a master’s degree in communicative disorders and has been clearing up accents for a long time.
Unfortunately, her expertise does not include understanding accents, although as we spoke, I had the feeling she was trying to teach me to speak more clearly. That’s when I learned that I ought to talk with my lips a quarter of an inch apart, like a real American.
Watching his show, I’ve noticed that Seinfeld always has his mouth open in a kind of expectant smile, which no doubt helps him speak clearly. That wouldn’t work for me because I rarely smile, though I have been practicing keeping my lips apart in preparation for saying something. Cinelli thinks it makes me look demented.
Clear speech isn’t easy. Bader points out there are 46 sounds in the English language. Mastering them is a chore because the same letter often has different sounds. She offered as an example the sentence, “She used a large plaid cloth to clean the filthy bathtub.”
In addition to noticing the different vowel sounds, students are expected to say it like an American, clear and strong and brave. CLEAN THE FILTHY BATHTUB, DAMN IT, OR WE’LL BOMB YOU INTO THE CARIBBEAN! Like that.
One of Bader’s biggest challenges was to help a woman shake her Valley Girl accent. Saying “fer shure” in a nasally tone while hanging out at a mall loses its allure when you’re past 40.
It is for similar reasons that I want to overcome my tendency to mumble. A grown man ought to be able to communicate. SO GET YOURSELF DOWN TO THE KHARA AND SAY THE SECRETARY OF STATE IS WARREN CHRISTOPHER AND YOU’D LIKE THE TANDOORI CHICKEN, BY GOD!
Tell ‘em Omar sent you.
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