THE TELEGRAM *
by S. J. Simon
“Hullo”, said Briggs, interestedly. “Sending a
telegram?”
I nodded. As he had caught me at the post-office writing on a
telegram form it seemed futile to deny it.
“May I see it?” said Briggs.
I looked at him in surprise. “Why should you?” I asked.
“Because,” said Briggs promptly, “there is an art in sending
telegrams, and lots of people don't know anything about it”.
“Is there?” I asked. “Don't they?”
“They don't,” said Briggs. “Most people just write out a
message and then get annoyed because it costs such a lot”.
“Are you insinuating,” I said, coldly, “that I don't know how to
send a telegram?”
“I am,” agreed Briggs. “Let me see that wire, and I'll cut it
down by half and still keep all the essentials”.
I passed it to him. It was only a message to my wife telling her I
should be joining her in Switzerland, but I flattered myself I had
made a good job of it. The thing read as follows: BUSINESS
CONCLUDED SATISFACTORILY EVERYTHING OK STOP ARRIVING
FRIDAY FIVE THIRTY BOOK ROOM LOVE AND KISSES.
But it was obvious at once that Briggs was not impressed. A
sneering sort of smile appeared on his face as he read it.
“Perhaps,” I suggested, hastily, “I might cut out LOVE and just
leave KISSES. What do you think? After all, she knows that I
love her”.
“And you can kiss her when you arrive,” said Briggs. “I'd
decided that long ago. I was smiling at your beginning,” he
went on complacently.
“Don't you think it's rather redundant?”
“Redundant?”
“Well – yes. I mean, if you've settled your business
satisfactorily, doesn't it follow that everything is O.K.?”
It had never occurred to me to look at the matter from that angle. “I
suppose it does,” I agreed weakly.
“Then we've made a start, anyway,” said Briggs. “Now let's see how
we stand”. He picked up a fresh form and wrote out the
following: BUSINESS CONCLUDED SATISFACTORILY STOP
ARRIVING FRIDAY FIVE THIRTY BOOK ROOM.
He stared at this for a few moments and then crossed out
SATISFACTORILY.
“Why?” I inquired, puzzled.
“It's unnecessary,” said Briggs. “I've never known you make a
bad bargain yet, and your wife must know it, too. So if you've
concluded this business – whatever it may be – you're bound to
have concluded it satisfactorily. Am I right?”
“You are,” I nodded, not altogether displeased.
“I knew it,” said Briggs. “Now – another point. Did your wife go
on ahead with the children because you had to stay in London
to attend to this affair?”
“Yes”.
“And did you promise to join her directly it was
finished?” I could not see what he was driving at,
but I nodded.
“Splendid,” said Briggs. “Then we can cross out BUSINESS
CONCLUDED. If it wasn't you wouldn't be going. So why
waste sixpence wiring it?”
“Ninepence,” I corrected, “threepence a word”. “And two words
is sixpence,” said Briggs. “What are you talking about?”
“Three words,” I informed him. “We don't need STOP any
longer, obviously. And now, “I added, quickly, “let's send the
thing off before it disappears altogether”.
But Briggs, obviously annoyed at having missed the STOP
himself, was devouring the telegram again.
“Why,” he inquired, “are you telling her to book a room?”
It seemed a silly question. “Isn't it obvious,” I said sarcastically,
“that I shall need a room in the hotel when I arrive?”
“Very obvious,” agreed Briggs, readily. “So obvious, in fact, that
your wife is bound to realize it without being told”.
Clearly I could not dispute this without making it appear that
my wife was a half-wit, so I said nothing.
“We're improving,” went on Briggs, flushed with victory. “Down
to four words. Now I'll just cut out your signature and we've
finished”.
He looked at me challengingly, but I was not going to be caught
again. “Quite,” I said.
“Don't you want to know why?” asked Briggs, surprised.
“I know,” I said shortly. “Who else could be arriving on Friday
except myself?”
“You're not far out, approved Briggs. “The point is that, though
somebody else might be arriving on Friday, somebody else
would be bound to sign the telegram. You should make a practice
of not signing telegrams to your wife,” he advised. “I never do.
Then she knows they're from me”.
“I will in future,” I promised.
“Good,” said Briggs. “Then we've got left ARRIVING FRIDAY FIVE
THIRTY. Now what about cutting out ARRIVING? After all, you
wouldn't cable FRIDAY FIVE THIRTY if you were not arriving at
that time. Isn't it obvious that...”.
And then I had an idea. While he was talking I picked up the
telegram and tore it into small pieces. Briggs stopped abruptly.
“What's the game?” he demanded.
“I have just decided,” I explained, “that I needn't send a
telegram at all. Everybody says the hotels are empty this year, so
there's no need to book a room. And I never did like being met
at the station”.
It took Briggs several moments to digest this. And then he
exploded.
“Do you mean to tell me,” he demanded, “that after making me
waste all this time you're not going to send a wire at all?”
I nodded. “You've made me realize that it isn't
necessary”. There was another pause.
“Well,” said Briggs at length, “please yourself, of course. But all
I can say is, never ask me to help you again, that's all”.
And he walked out of the post-office.
When he had disappeared round the corner I took up a fresh
telegram form and re-wrote the original wire in full.
------------------------------
* Explanatory Notes
The story was written by S. J. Simon in the 20th century, when
telegrams were short messages sent as texts via cable from post
offices.
BUSINESS CONCLUDED SATISFACTORILY EVERYTHING OK STOP
ARRIVING FRIDAY FIVE THIRTY BOOK ROOM LOVE AND
KISSES – in telegrams articles, prepositions, pronouns and
auxiliaries are omitted if omission does not affect the meaning.
See also: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Telegram_style
