So I was mindlessly fidgeting with a screwdriver last night while sitting on the couch. I won’t try to explain how that happened. But there I was, turning a Phillips head over and over in my hand while re-re-re-watching the first season of The Wire on DVD.

It was a cheap screwdriver. Cost me a buck at Target earlier in the day. There were two pieces of information stamped onto it. The first was a brand: Durabuilt. The second was a country of origin: China.

As I flipped it, I realized there was a factory worker half a world away whose sole job was to sit in a manufacturing plant every day and run the machine that identified a bazillion screwdrivers every week. He (or she) undoubtedly had no trouble understanding “China.” But what about the other word? That had to be confusing – even if the guy (or not guy) had a working knowledge of English. After all, what’s a Durabuilt? At some point that worker asked the question to a trusted, knowledgeable source.

Factory Worker: “I started my new job today.”

Grandfather: “What do they have you doing?”

FW: “I’m stamping screwdrivers. But I don’t get it. On one side of the screwdriver, I let everyone know where it came from. On the other, I stamp a word I’ve never seen.”

GF: “Didn’t you take English for a few years?”

FW: “Yes. But I guess I didn’t make it that far.”

GF: “What’s the word?”

FW: “Durabuilt.”

GF: “Oh. Don’t worry. They wouldn’t have covered that in your studies.”

FW: “Why not?”

GF: “Because that’s not English. That’s advertising.”

I’m really not sure what makes that conversation better: comedic timing or a Greek chorus.