The S.T.O.A.

My favorite comedy routine is called “The Slow Talkers of America.” It was done by radio broadcasters Bob Elliott and Ray Goulding, who were known simply as “Bob and Ray.” Their on-air presence spanned the 1940s through the 1980s, but I don’t know when “The Slow Talkers of America” was recorded.

In the routine, which is only about four minutes long, a news host is interviewing the president of the Slow Talkers of America. The slow talking drives the host into complete exasperation.

I grew up in areas where people didn’t usually talk fast. They didn’t speak comically slow, like the S.T.O.A. guy, but, on the other hand, they didn’t use city-slicker turbo talk, either.

My grandfather was a Southern doctor, and the slow, genteel cadence of his speech helped solidify his status as the most dignified person I’ve known. Behind that unassuming and kindly demeanor was a formidable man. He received a Bronze Star as an army major in WWII, and, before that, had been an electrical engineer venturing through Asia. He started medical school in Calcutta before the war. His résumé reads like something out of a Kipling story.

Maybe that’s one reason I like a comfortable speaking pace that’s easy on the ears. But I might be an outlier on that note. When I was in college the established opinion was that people who spoke fast were perceived as more knowledgeable.

Later on, in corporate life, executives preparing presentations often tried to use a “knowledgeable,” quick-paced delivery. This was, no doubt, a legacy of the old college wisdom.

After that PowerPoint came along. Oh, joy. I don’t even know if there is any such thing as an exclusively spoken presentation anymore, at least in the corporate realm.

The weirdest speaking cadence that I’ve employed is when speaking through an interpreter at a fancy business powwow. It was a last-minute trip and I didn’t have time to prepare. I’m sure there are methods for these situations, but I didn’t know any. The best I could do was organize my words into bite-sized phrases that didn’t have to be laced together. It was clunky. It’s probably not a net loss for me, though, since I’m not a slick speaker to begin with.

Looking back at the fast side of things, whenever I try to converse in Mandarin Chinese, I’m completely overwhelmed at the pace of the words coming at me. I don’t know if the language is actually spoken faster than English is, or if my ineptitude just makes it seem that way. It’s possible that both explanations are true. Anyway, yeah, for me, it’s hopeless. I admit that.

There’s no shame in being shamed by Mandarin, it’s a hard language. But being out-paced in your native tongue is a different proposition entirely.

I hadn’t considered that unsavory scenario until I wound up in New York. That place moves a lot faster than I do. I was traveling and I ventured into a deli at high noon on a weekday. It was, naturally, crowded. This wasn’t a national chain where I might know my way around the menu; it was, instead, an independent joint, obviously packed with regulars, and there seemed to be a lot of colloquial lingo involved in ordering a sandwich.

I was probably the 10th person in line when I arrived, but the line moved so fast that a matter of seconds later I was No. 2. Behind me, three burly road-workers queued up, and there were more people piling in behind them.

Then it was my turn at the counter. Already! Yikes.

I said, “I’m an outsider. I talk too slow for you guys. So please give me a roast beef sandwich to go, any way you want to make it,” and I handed over a $20 bill.

And here we see the marvel of efficiency that is New York: Without batting an eye the guy rang up my order and handed me my change.

I hastily cleared away from the counter. Two minutes later I was on my way, lunch in hand. I was impressed.

I’ve since been back to New York a couple of times, and Newark (N.J.), too, and I’ve sort of warmed to the fast pace of those places. True, I’m an S.T.O.A. member invading F.T.O.A. territory, but I wave a flag of surrender and they give me some sort of diplomatic immunity or something.

Saipan’s pace is more my style. But it’s a big world out there, so, until I win the lotto, I have to take it as it comes. Hey, fast talk, slow talk, foreign talk, deli talk, look on the bright side: at least it’s not PowerPoint.