Should you correct someone’s pronunciation if you’re unlikely to ever see the person again?
Years ago, I wrote about how a librarian at a college I attended was crushed when she found out no one had corrected her pronunciation when she got it wrong. The librarian had grown up in France and immigrated to the United States late in life. When her mispronunciation was pointed out to her, she wondered out loud why no one had ever bothered to correct her before. She was both disappointed and embarrassed that she had been pronouncing some words incorrectly for years.
One of the reasons no one corrected her was likely that they didn’t feel comfortable embarrassing her without realizing that she might have considered it a thoughtful gesture. When she found out years after no one corrected her, her feelings of hurt lingered toward those with whom she regularly had contact.
But what about when the person mispronouncing is someone you’re likely never to see again?
On a tour of some Portuguese churches recently, the woman I’d eat bees for and I were lucky enough to be assigned to a terrific group tour guide. He was a former translator from Brazil who had a few months earlier relocated to Portugal. While his native language was Portuguese, the tour was conducted in Spanish and English since those were the predominant languages of those in our tour group. He would alternate his descriptions in Spanish and English and did so seamlessly. His grammar and usage were flawless as was most of his pronunciation. But each time he used the word “bishop,” he would pronounce it with the first syllable sounding like “bye” rather than rhyming with “dish.”
It was a day-long bus tour, so for the first hour or so we wondered whether it would be appropriate to say something to him, or if it would seem arrogant, judgmental or annoying. During a short break, however, I found myself standing next to him and we got to talking. I learned that while he had learned to speak English in grade school, he had only picked up Spanish about six months earlier, which struck me as impressive. I decided to tell him then about bishop, but told him that his English otherwise struck me as flawless and that the information overall was helpful without being overwhelming.
He seemed grateful, but then again, he was working for tips at the end of the tour so I’m not sure responding angrily would have been a good business move on his part. Nevertheless, he persisted in thanking me and the rest of the tour went fine, although oddly enough the word “bishop” never came up again.
I chose to tell him not because I found it important to be right about something. I did so because ultimately I decided that if I were in his position, I would want to know so I could avoid making the same mistake on future tours. The same is true in the work I do. I appreciate it when students correct me when I make a mistake and when readers point out when I commit an error in the column.
When we believe we can help someone do something better than they are already doing it, it strikes me as the right thing to try to do so. Uma simples gentileza.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.
Follow him on Twitter @jseglin.
(c) 2025 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.
No comments:
Post a Comment