If you say "He don't know nothin' " in an interview for a white-collar job, you won't get the job. And if you say "tike" instead of "take" and you drop your "aitches everywhere" the way they do "down in Soho Square," you will earn the scorn of Professor Henry Higgins:
"Look at her — a pris'ner of the gutters;
"Condemned by ev'ry syllable she utters."
But what if you committed yourself to improving your command of English? And what if your tutor was as brilliant as Professor Higgins, who boasted that in six months he could remake the flower girl Eliza Doolittle so completely she could pass as a duchess at an embassy ball? And you did it?
What an extraordinary illustration of how language influences the way others perceive us. Language is power, and "My Fair Lady" makes the point delightfully. If you fail to learn to speak properly, not only do you miss an opportunity to use language to your advantage, but you also risk being admonished by the likes of Professor Higgins:
"Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech; that your native language is the language of Shakespeare and Milton and the Bible; and don't sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon."
With such full-throated opprobrium for those who misuse our language, you'd think Alan Jay Lerner would get the grammar right in the script, but twice I was yanked from the magic of the Guthrie Theater's marvelous production by glaring errors.
The first was committed by the prim and proper Mrs. Pearce, who says to Eliza's suitor Freddy Eynsford-Hill, "Whom shall I say is calling?"