Things have gotten so P.C. nowadays that you can't even call a forklift a forklift. Suddenly, every piece of "power lifting equipment" in your shop needs a special name. Even the mutant bullshit like telehandlers don't want to be called something cool like zoom-booms anymore.
The other day, the intern and I are out at Subway. Van saying "lift trucks" comes by. Picture on the side? You guessed it. Forklift.
"Skip," my intern explains - I don't like to be called boss, and he's nice and doesn't do that - "that's what the manufacturers want us to call them now. A forklift is too reductive, obscures nuance. Imagine if you had a huge shop full of these things, you'd need to know the difference between a reach truck and a stacker."
He makes an excellent point, which I admit by silently chewing on my Mesquite Chicken Power Bowl. I have ordered it meticulously, in order to accommodate my unique dietary needs. Some people think that's unimportant, and I should just get one of the combos and not explain myself to the Sandwich Artist every time. They're wrong, it's critical that I be recognized for who I am. Safer for everyone, too.
Even though it draws so much embarrassment when I misname the things, I just can't get over how every forklift insists on its own special name. My grandfather never had to put up with that kind of nonsense. He'd just get out there in the morning, lift up a car with whatever he had on the jobsite, and steal the catalytic converter. Then he'd go to the bar, and sob in the bathroom for a couple of hours at home by himself without ever explaining to any of us what was going on. Probably saw all this coming.
