Not one of my students has failed to tell me that their teacher instructs them in that style of writing. Now I’m dumbfounded. My students are being instructed by my colleagues to produce these rapes against the very language they have sworn to teach?

Conundrum: I am sworn to teach English, and I aim to do it well. That means correctly. The poor students end up confused when their native-speaking English teacher tells them that such writing is a miscarriage of literature but they will lose points on their exam unless they perpetrate exactly that crime. Taking the issue up with Sam is not much help. He is sympathetic to my dilemma but cannot relent, for the judges will subtract points from any student’s composition that is not replete with useless, tiresome descriptions, catchphrases and clichés.

From there, the spectrum widens.

At restaurants: If one door greeter/hostess is good, then 6 must be better. Thus, when dining out, patrons must run the gauntlet of no fewer than 6 but sometimes up to 10 beautifully clad young women, all shouting “Welcome to our establishment” while gracefully bowing and waving diners in.

In stores: If one sales clerk is good then 4 must be better. When out shopping, even in big box stores I never have any trouble finding a helpful assistant. They hover around, ready to recommend a product, extol its virtues and show off its features. That applies to appliances as well as to toothpaste, shampoo or brand of noodles.

In clothing stores the effect is doubled. Not only will the salesclerk help you find something to try on but they will band together and praise your new look. There might be a method to that particular madness. I always feel compelled to buy when faced with a dozen sales clerks who are all recommending.

In traffic: If one bus is good, then two buses must be better. More than once, to avoid a crowded bus I’ve let the first one go, knowing that, within minutes a second bus of the same line will pull up, virtually empty. It has become more or less a sport for me to find a seat on every bus I ride. Usually, I win. Sometimes I give up my seat – to an elder or a parent with his/her child asleep in their arms. That’s just to keep the game interesting.