There are only two times when people have a hard time understanding what I’m saying. When I’m excited or happy about the subject at hand, I tend to speak too fast. When I’m unhappy or not excited, I tend to mumble and swallow my words. Other than that, I’m a regular Demosthenes (by which I mean, I speak like my mouth is full of marbles. (That last joke was included so that those of you who took Roman history can actually get some use out of it. Everybody else, feel free to ignore it and move on.)

In short, I’m resigned to the fact that my speech habits will frequently reduce even my fellow Americans to smiling and nodding. The fact that anybody here in the UK can understand me at all, I can only attribute to the influence of my British-born sixth grade teacher Mr. Bernard, who introduced me to the notion that, contrary to American habits, the “t” in “mountain” and “water” is not intended to be silent.
What does surprise me is the fact that nobody here in England seems to understand me when I say two simple letters: “OK.”
It’s not as if the expression is restricted to the US. Indeed, anybody who has traveled anywhere in the non-English-speaking world has had the experience of overhearing a rapid stream of foreign words suddenly ending in, “OK?” Like a laugh or a scream, “OK” seems to be one of those sounds that conveys the same meaning wherever human beings are found.
Except, it seems, when I use it.
For some odd reason, whenever I say “OK” to a British person to indicate that I have heard and understood what they have said, they look confused, and then repeat themselves slowly. At first, I thought I was mispeaking. Perhaps, in some sort of Freudian slip, I had intended to say “OK” but accidentally said “I’m sorry, I did not hear you. Would you mind repeating that statement a bit more slowly?” instead. Or perhaps I made a more subtle mistake: perhaps I was saying “OK?” instead of “OK!”. And so I began to monitor myself, but no matter how emphatically and distinctively I say OK, I get the same result: a momentary look of confusion from my British co-conversationalist, followed by a repetition of their last statement.
Lately, I have taken to halting the conversation when this happens. The following is an actual transcript of a recent exchange I had:
BRITISH FRIEND: Do you want to see a movie next week?
ME: OK.
BRITISH FRIEND: I said, “Do you want to see a movie next week?”
ME: Wait a minute. What did you think I just said?
BRITISH FRIEND: I don’t understand.
ME: You just repeated yourself. Why?
BRITISH FRIEND: I have no idea.
ME: Well, for some reason, when I say “OK” to a British person, he always repeats himself.
BRITISH FRIEND: That’s really odd. I have no idea why that would happen. I’ll try to pay attention next time to figure out what I think you’re saying.
ME: OK.
BRITISH FRIEND: I said, “I’ll try to pay attention next time–”
ME: Wait! You just repeated yourself. Why?
BRITISH FRIEND: I have no idea.
I’m now resigned to the fact that I will never know what, exactly, British people think I mean when I say “OK.” And I’m completely OK with that.