03/08/2014

It has occured to me that I’ve thus far dealt only with the most glamorous aspects of form processing. But beneath the glitzy themes of statistics and handwriting, there’s a whole underworld of other, equally meritorious material that passes through my hands on a daily basis. What of the unsung heroes, the men and women, the addresses and phone numbers that find themselves trampled underfoot, like serfs beneath a giant elephant? This article is dedicated to them.

A town called Groitzsch.

Only the Germans would take it to five consonants with impunity – and boy have they picked a lively bunch here. If you try to pronounce the letters “tzsch” in isolation, it produces a kind of laser sound. Yet there is something distinctly un-laser-like about the name Groitzsch. Which begs the question: what is this mysterious town, with its surfeit of consonants and its curiously counter-onomatopoeic name? What’s it all about? The answer is that I don’t know, because I just read it on a form once and didn’t enquire any further.

A street called Am klein Flottbeker Bahnhof

In the four words this street sees fit to accord itself as a title, not one of them actually means ‘street’. To translate roughly, I make it out as “beside the little train station in Flottbek”. The advantage of this street name is that if anyone ever asks you where it is, you have a ready-made answer at your fingertips. Ingenious. Why don’t we name all our streets this way? You could drive down “Near the nature strip next to the canal” street, before taking a left turn into “Between near the nature strip next to the canal street and behind the church with the green door street” street. But without the “street”s, obviously. Exciting times lie ahead for Hamburg’s city council, if only they take the plunge and extrapolate.

A woman called Frau Muckenschnabel

I haven’t really checked this. But I’m pretty sure mucken means “to chatter”, and Schnabel means “beak”. So… Miss Chatterbox? This, along with my current employment in the company of a woman named Fröhlich (“happy”) is drawing me slowly into the suspicion that Germans are named one and all after Mr. Men characters. In any case, there’s a fascinating and socially revealing history behind the formation of the name Muckenschnabel. I assume. Consult the Internet to find out more.

A man called Herr Mannsbart

It doesn’t get more masculine than this. This even outdoes “Mr. Men” for brute masculinity. It’s “Mr. Man’s Beard”. What did this man’s ancestor do to get a name like that? Did he stroll into the village one morning, with his proud mane bristling in the sunlight to the utter admiration of his fellow village people? Did they point at him from a distance and say: “Look! That man. His beard. That man has the beard of a man. Henceforth, he and his progeny will be known as Mansbeard.” Maybe. Again, I can’t really comment. Though I would ask you spare a thought for his female progeny – as striking as Mr. Mansbeard is as a name, it has nothing on Mrs. Mansbeard.

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Well, if that doesn’t provide the third dimension to my experience in customer services, I don’t know what will. And I’m afraid I’m yet to select a favourite telephone number – though I enjoyed reading that one of our clients was born on 18/14/1973. Glad I’m not the only one trying to keep things light.

"I would like a store loyalty card, please!"