Eric Hartley: Just tell us what you really mean

At Wal-Mart, the employees are "associates." At McDonald's, they're "crew members." And at Target, they're "team members," the same term used at Westfield Annapolis mall.

We live in a world awash in such euphemisms, most of which we tune out. I have noticed them, but usually laughed them off until a jarring incident a couple of weeks ago.

I was covering a musical performance for inmates at the women's prison in Jessup when Warden Carroll Parrish gave his opening remarks, saying he hoped the "residents" enjoyed the performance and … Wait, did he just call them residents? As in residents of Annapolis or Omaha or San Diego?

This might be a new level of ridiculousness.

We go to absurd lengths to avoid calling things what they are, in part, because we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

You're not prison inmates. You're just residents of a very secure assisted-living facility in Jessup. In juvenile court, kids commit "delinquent acts," not crimes. They aren't defendants but "respondents" and aren't found guilty but instead "involved" - a word that nicely skirts any assignment of responsibility.

Some of this puffery is about ego. Who wants to be a lowly worker when you can be a "partner"? For that matter, why be a customer when you can be a "guest," as many stores call them?

That kind of euphemism might be harmless enough. But others are corrosive, a failure to call things what they really are serving as a way to avoid confronting difficult or unpleasant facts.

It's cool - we're all associates, says Wal-Mart, the gazillion-dollar corporation that has underpaid women, forced people to work unpaid overtime and illegally busted unions.

Some stores shy away from even suggesting anyone is the boss. Ikea, which calls employees "co-workers," says on its Web site: "Co-workers are not restricted at IKEA; we listen and support each individual to identify his or her needs, ambitions and capabilities."

Well, that all sounds groovy, but when it comes down to it, doesn't somebody have to say, "Put the POAANG next to the KARLSTAD and help Sven with the EKTORP"?

Target's title for bosses, "team leaders," is so meaningless that the retailer's job listings have to add by way of further explanation: "Similar Industry Titles and Key Words: Store Manager in Training, General Manager in Training."

Ah. Why not just call them that, then?

In prisons, the euphemisms go both ways. Guards get upset when you call them guards, because it's supposedly disrespectful. They're correctional officers. Right, but their job is to ... guard prisoners, right?

Annapolis mayoral candidate Chris Fox's supporters got upset when reporters called him a "pub owner" or "bar owner." He's a business owner, they said indignantly. Right, but that business is ... a pub, right? Also known as a bar.

In the subtitle of her book, "Your Call Is Important to Us," Laura Penny refers to the worst euphemisms as what they really are, using an expletive we can't print. (To use a euphemism of my own, it's a form of bovine waste.)

Coming up with nicer ways to say things is human nature. But modern America has taken it to new levels. We don't just say things in a nicer way; we often say the exact opposite of what we really mean.

Penny argues the flood of corporate and government doublespeak leads to cynicism and apathy. People tune out because they know they're constantly being lied to.

In business, a "redundancy" is a worker you don't need any more. "Finding efficiencies" means laying off a few of said employees, or a few thousand. "Layoff" itself is a euphemism of sorts, too. Being laid off isn't quite being fired, but the result looks much the same.

If I'm shopping in your store, I appreciate friendly service, but I'm just a customer. I'm not a "guest." You're not having me over for a cookout.

And there's nothing wrong with calling those women in Jessup inmates or prisoners; that's what they are and everyone knows it. Calling them "residents" isn't fooling anyone. In fact, it's insulting.

Asked about the term "resident," state prison system spokeswoman Danielle Lueking said, "Well, they live there, so..." and laughed.

But she confirmed "resident" is by no means the official nomenclature.

"We haven't changed the word inmate," said Lueking - whose actual title, by the way, is deputy public information officer.