We don’t get out much. We didn’t get out that much even in the Before Time, and we almost never got into a Tim Horton’s in the usual run of things. I don’t ever drink coffee and I need a doughnut once every 4.347826 years.
But on our used-to-be-annual lake trip we always stopped en route at a Timmy’s for a bathroom break and a box of Timbits® for our host, and so it was that a few weeks ago we crossed a Tim Horton’s threshold for the first time in a looong time. This floor decal greeted us.
Hahaha. Another entry in what I view as the determinedly-Canadian-but-completely-unhelpful genre exemplified by these two signs, both seen online in the early stages of this pandemic.
Stand two hockey-stick lengths apart.
Maintain a distance of two caribou.
I mean, seriously, as Canadian as I am I cannot reliably visualize one hockey-stick length, much less two. As for the caribou, forget it. I suspect (even Canadian) women of a certain-age-and-then-some might do better being advised to stand one Tom-Selleck height apart; younger ones might do better with one-and-a-quarter Justin-Bieber heights. Men can find their own aide-distance.
As cute as this little sign is, it really is unhelpful. I mean, seriously, I can’t visualize 46 of *anything* laid end-to-end. And if the target is 6 feet, how did we get to a number like 46? That means the number of Timbits® in a foot is not some simple, sensible integer but, rather, 7.6 (the 6 recurring with no end in sight). For those who prefer metric, it seems that each Timbit® is assumed to be 4.347826 cm. Call me a crazy Canuck, but I don’t find any of that intuitively obvious.
Of course, being helpful is not the intent here: It’s about trying to put a smile on my face. The first principle in communication is to establish and maintain the aim. Odd that it should be the same as for war.