{"id":70959,"date":"2014-05-08T12:01:25","date_gmt":"2014-05-08T16:01:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=70959"},"modified":"2014-05-08T15:12:10","modified_gmt":"2014-05-08T19:12:10","slug":"clitics","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/05\/08\/clitics\/","title":{"rendered":"Clitics"},"content":{"rendered":"

Life in the linguistics lab.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"mouth\"<\/a>

Image via Giphy<\/p><\/div>\n

In August 2009, I took a job as a \u201cconfederate\u201d at the \u201cMIXER\u201d project, run by the linguistics lab of a university in the Philadelphia area. The goal of the MIXER project was to gather recorded interviews for a database of conversational American speech. Over the previous five years, the lab had recorded thousands of speakers; having secured a grant from an undisclosed sponsor, they were gearing up for another year. For three hundred dollars a week, my only responsibility was to receive the participants that came to the lab and to get them to speak.<\/p>\n

The interviews were conducted in a recording booth known as the Mermaid Lounge, so named for the amphibian girl and paint-by-numbers fish characters painted on the far wall. Inside the Lounge was a single desk where two computer monitors sat head-to-head, surrounded by cameras and all kinds of microphones: clip-ons, standalones, condensers. At the other end of the hallway was the HIVE, a seminar room that served as base of operations for the MIXER-6 team\u2014me, a secretary, and the lead confederate, who liaised with the sponsors. The lead confederate on MIXER-6 had participated in every study so far except MIXER-4, which she\u2019d missed due to dental surgery. Now, after several complicated adjustments, she wore an elaborate dental fixture that rendered her effectively mute. She typically relayed messages through the secretary, Stabler, a burly little man with golden-blond hair and a bushy beard. Stabler was responsible for outreach; that meant flyering, Craigslist ads, and organizing participant data. Unfortunately, he was hamstrung by his terrible stammer, which was particularly pronounced whenever he spoke on the phone: \u201cHello, thank you for c-c-calling the l-l-ab \u2026 Are you r-r-responding to the a-a-ad?\u201d<\/p>\n

As a confederate, my responsibilities consisted of escorting the participants to the Mermaid Lounge, fitting them with a small, sensitive mic, and seeing them through three \u201csessions.\u201d The first, the Prompt Session, was scripted. Participants read through a series of warm-up phrases as they scrolled across a monitor. These were mostly binomials like riff raff<\/em>, hip-hop<\/em>, flim flam<\/em>, willy nilly<\/em>, etc. Once the articulatory mechanisms were sufficiently exercised, I moved onto the Natural Session, during which I conversed with the participant on a topic of his or her choice. If necessary, we could discuss the algorithmically generated topic of the day, which might be Netflix, or terrorism, or gun control. Finally, after fifteen minutes, the participant put on a pair of headphones for the Noisy Session. An automated voiced counted down to zero, and then a steady stream of white noise came through the soft earpieces while I continued to converse with the participant. <\/p>\n

Because the study offered the participants three hundred dollars without requiring them to ingest any disruptive substances, the schedule filled quickly. The respondents fell into three groups: recent college graduates, retired Philadelphians, and veterans from a nearby recovery center. Sessions with the graduates were more or less indistinguishable from the conversations I would have with my friends after work\u2014and that made me uncomfortable. I found myself more at ease with the retirees, who were so grateful for a break from the drudgery of retired life that the fifteen minutes were quickly filled with enthusiastic monologue. One of the first participants, Tutu S., a former high school principal dressed all in cranberry\u2014cranberry corduroys, a cranberry-striped collar visible beneath a cranberry sweater\u2014chattered about the topic of the day (gun control) without so much as pausing for breath. Another retiree, Alex K., arrived at the lab in camping gear, dragging several tote bags behind him. \u201cOh<\/em>, oh, what an interesting opportunity this is!\u201d he sighed. The fluorescent light of the Mermaid Lounge reflected on his bald head. Standing in the door of the HIVE, he kept telling us what an in<\/em>teresting topic we had chosen. Eventually, the lead confederate escorted him out.<\/p>\n

Of course, not every session went so smoothly. Jonathan C., another early participant, blocked every attempt at natural conversation. He read through the prompts with all the petulance of a child put on time-out. \u201cHee-haw<\/em>, hurdy gurdy<\/em>, hoosie-whatsit<\/em>,\u201d he pouted. His sheepish, confession-booth eyes scanned across the monitor. I noticed that there was a perfectly oval birthmark right in the center of his forehead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you do?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m an attendant at a fur coat storage facility,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n

I grasped for a segue: \u201cWhat\u2019s the temperature like in that storage facility?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt depends.\u201d He paused. \u201cIt depends on the coat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thankfully, Jonathan became more candid during the Noisy Session. As soon as he heard the hiss in the headphones, he began to yell out unprompted: \u201cBECAUSE MY FATHER IS A FAILURE \u2026 BECAUSE HE GAVE ME A BAD EMOTIONAL BLUEPRINT! \u2026 \u201d while the staff at the HIVE looked in on the session impassively, ticking off notes on a clipboard.<\/p>\n

Far and away the most courteous\u2014if not necessarily the most forthcoming\u2014participants were the veterans. Recruited from two recovery centers in North Philadelphia, they had heard that the study was funded by the Department of Defense, so many of them would frame their participation in terms of responsibility and duty. \u201cWe like to help out when we can,\u201d one participant explained to me. Another, Rachel S., imagined that the study would be more formal than it was. Seeing me in the doorway of the HIVE, she burst out laughing. \u201cI thought you\u2019d be some Pentagon guy,\u201d she explained.<\/p>\n

A tall, fit man named Oscar M., who limped into the Mermaid Lounge with a brace on his leg, told me that, before the service, he worked as a window cleaner on the skyscrapers in the financial district. Looking through the lounge\u2019s picture window, which looked out onto Center City, he named every building in the skyline. According to Oscar, the daytime head on the Cira Center was so intense the cleaners couldn\u2019t work past ten A<\/small>.M<\/small>. When the Noisy Session began, he began to reminisce about his time in the service. He told me about how he finally earned \u201cShellback Status.\u201d When I said I had no idea what that was, he flashed a nostalgic smile. As his ears flooded with white noise, he described to me the hazing process he had endured. \u201cMAKE YOU SWIM THROUGH GARBAGE, OIL, SPIT <\/em>ON YOU, PISS <\/em>ON YOU,\u201d he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the noise. \u201cJUST KEEP SWIMMIN\u2019!\u201d The hiss cut out, signaling the end of the session.<\/p>\n

Afterward, I told the lead confederate that it was \u201cinteresting\u201d to have so many retirees in the study. \u201cOh, good!\u201d she said, or tried to say, hindered by her shiny green braces. \u201cI\u2019m glad they\u2019re signing up because a lot of them fit the target demographic.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat demographic?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

There was a loud snap; she clapped her hand to her mouth. Something was wrong with her braces. After standing for a moment, her face twisted into an expression of bewilderment and discomfort, she picked up a pen, scratched something on a Post-It note, and handed it to Stabler.<\/p>\n

\u201cTh-the sp-sponsor d-d-doesn\u2019t want y-y-you to kn-know,\u201d he read aloud.<\/p>\n

My final participant, Sinclair O., had signed up at the beginning of the study, but he had had to cancel because, as he explained, a trolley had run over his foot. Beneath his large sunglasses, I noticed a cluster of red pimples around his nose and mouth. His whole affect was one of profound irritation.<\/p>\n

\u201cName?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you already know?\u201d he snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only a preliminary question,\u201d I said. I saw my reflection in his glasses, sitting behind my monitor, the open window glaring behind me.<\/p>\n

Sinclair\u2019s annoyance only deepened during the binary prompts. \u201cFlim-flam<\/em>, riff raff<\/em>, hoosie whatsit<\/em>,\u201d he shook his head. \u201cWhat is this?\u201d I wasn\u2019t sure how to explain. He laughed nervously. \u201cWhat are you doin\u2019 with this?\u201d he asked. \u201cNow, now\u2014are you gonna discredit<\/em> me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrust me, this isn\u2019t a test,\u201d I assured him. I rushed through the prompts to reach the Natural Session sooner, but that went no better.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you\u2019re from Philly?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

He furrowed his brow, just above the rim of his aviators. \u201cI\u2019m definitely not<\/em> from Philly,\u201d he said sharply. \u201cI came here just to see my brother. Here I am one year later, tryin\u2019 to go back to Oakland.\u201d<\/p>\n

I tried to change the subject. \u201cHow\u2019d you find out about the study?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I\u2019m tryin\u2019 to get out!\u201d he snapped again. \u201cEnough of this place. It\u2019s all the same here, man. People, they can move to Germantown, but it\u2019s the same shit<\/em>\u2014you just in Germantown now. People think they can move to South Philly, and it\u2019s the same shit<\/em>\u2014now you in South Philly.\u201d He worked his way through the map of Philadelphia until, all of a sudden, he pointed at his nose. \u201cMan, see this?! I don\u2019t get this shit when I\u2019m in Oakland. This shit on my face is because of Philadelphia.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

When the white noise began for the Noise Session, Sinclair immediately pulled off the headphones. \u201cNo way,\u201d he said. \u201cNot doin\u2019 that.\u201d This was the first time a participant reacted negatively to the noise. \u201cHow \u2019bout you man?\u201d he asked. \u201cWhy you workin\u2019 here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI applied for the job,\u201d I answered weakly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy here<\/em>, though\u2014I mean, who are you?\u201d He rubbed the clip-on mic between his fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I said, trying to remember, \u201cone of the lead linguists here offered me a job. I met him when I worked at a coffee shop.\u201d This was Mark M., who walked around with an ostentatious-looking African cane and tied his stringy white hair together with a headband. \u201cI was reading this book about linguistics and I wrote a word\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat word?\u201d Sinclair interrupted.<\/p>\n

At this coffee shop, Mark M. had spotted my notebook, where I had written down the word clitics<\/em>. \u201cDo you know what clitics are?\u201d he\u2019d asked me. I didn\u2019t, and still don\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t remember what word,\u201d I told Sinclair.<\/p>\n

The headphones went silent, so we returned to the HIVE in order to sign release forms. Sinclair continued to press me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, really, what\u2019s this for?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSpeech recognition,\u201d I explained. This was the response we had been trained to give. \u201cThey\u2019re trying to improve speech recognition.\u201d Sinclair\u2019s face twisted with suspicion. \u201cListen, I can delete it,\u201d I offered, \u201cbut then you won\u2019t get paid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d he countered, \u201cyou can say <\/em>you\u2019re going to delete it, but you might really be saving it somewhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, really, I can show you.\u201d I retrieved the microphone on which the conversation had been recorded and showed Sinclair the trashbin icon on the microphone\u2019s interface. Admittedly, it looked dubious.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt<\/em> can say it\u2019s deleting it,\u201d Sinclair went on, \u201cbut it <\/em>could really be sending it off somewhere and savin\u2019 it for later!\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, I worried that Sinclair was going to rip the microphone from my hand and smash it on the ground. Instead, he took the confirmation papers from me and calmly signed them. His signature authorized the recording to be used for \u201cany <\/em>future research.\u201d Below his signature, he added, in florid script: \u201cRemember, be nice!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Timothy Leonido is a writer based in Philadelphia. Other work can be found in<\/em> Gauss PDF, and is forthcoming in <\/em>Triple Canopy and <\/em>Lateral Addition.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Life in the linguistics lab. In August 2009, I took a job as a \u201cconfederate\u201d at the \u201cMIXER\u201d project, run by the linguistics lab of a university in the Philadelphia area. The goal of the MIXER project was to gather recorded interviews for a database of conversational American speech. Over the previous five years, the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":693,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3163],"tags":[4901,13839,1277,13838,694,9771,13837,2393],"class_list":["post-70959","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-odd-jobs","tag-jobs","tag-laboratories","tag-linguistics","tag-mixer","tag-philadelphia","tag-research","tag-speaking","tag-words"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nLife in the Linguistics Lab<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Timothy Leonido on his odd job as a \u201cconfederate\u201d at the \u201cMIXER\u201d project, where he recorded interviews for a database of conversational American speech.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/05\/08\/clitics\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Clitics by Timothy Leonido\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"May 8, 2014 \u2013 Life in the linguistics lab. 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