You don’t screw-up where I grew up. You dub-up. If you’ve never heard ‘dub-up’, you’re didn’t grow up in Central Maine. You’re from away. I’m here to help.
I dubbed-up yesterday.
Sometimes I write Monday’s post on Sunday afternoon. I schedule it for 6:31 a.m. Yesterday I dubbed-up the date and time. It went out Sunday at 6:31 p.m. (I don’t have a rational explanation for 6:31.)
Dubbing-up is kinder than screwing up. Friends dub-up. Strangers and idiots are screw-ups. When a friend backs the hay wagon into the side of the car, he’s a dubbah. If you can’t speak Mainiac, you say dubber. But the hard ‘err’ at the end feels harsh.
Somewhere in the mysterious past, folks from Maine rejected the ability to pronounce an ‘er’ sound at the end of words. We can pronounce ‘er’ just fine. It’s not a speech defect. It’s intentional.
If you’ve ever said ‘ahh’ for the doctor, you can learn to speak Mainiac. Maine folk say mothah. People from away say mother.
Mothah pahked the cah in the yahd. Translation. Mother parked the car in the yard. Understanding this means you’re smaht.
I tried to teach the grandchildren how to speak Mainiac during vacation in Maine. But they weren’t motivated. I suppose it’s not as melodious as an Irish brogue.
Are Mainiacs ashamed? I flaunt my ability to not pronounce Rs at the end of words. You might think it’s nothing to flaunt. But that’s all the more reason to do it, if you’re a true Mainiac.
You probably aren’t getting the point. I’ll spell it out. It’s more fun to be a dubbah than a loser. Don’t be so harsh. Be a dub-up, not a screw-up.
High expectations don’t have to be harsh.
Tip: Maybe if you don’t point out your dub-ups, people will think you’re smaht.
How might leaders have high expectations without being harsh?