Why are bosses so weird?

Dear Word Detective: My boss keeps telling me that the word “tax” comes from a European king. The king controlled a road that was traveled by merchants. If someone wanted to travel this road, they had to pay King Tax (or some name close to that) for the privilege of traveling on this section of road unharmed. Is this true? — Gerald Barnes.

Well, there you go. I’ve always said that if space aliens decided to invade and destroy our civilization (or what’s left of it), the best way to do it would be to weasel their way into middle management and drive their underlings mad by forcing them to listen to this kind of nonsense. I once had to suffer through several days of mandatory computer training at a job back in the days when Pentium processors were the new hot thing. The supervisor conducting the class insisted on calling it a “Penta,” and even made up some absurd tale about it being five times faster than the old chips. To this day the word “Pentium” makes me flinch.

There have, of course, been scads of monarchs and other rulers down through the ages who levied tolls on roads under their control. Our modern word “turnpike” pays tribute to the days when toll stations actually blocked the road with a long pole (“pike”) until the fee was paid. But none of this has anything to do with the word “tax.”

Our modern verb “to tax” comes to us from the Old French “taxer,” which was based on the Latin “taxare,” meaning “to value or make a valuation of” something, and only secondarily “to charge.” That Latin “taxare” was probably derived in turn from the verb “tangere,” which means “to touch” and has also given us such words as “tangible” and “contact.” Old French also had the word “tasche,” meaning “duty,” formed from “taxa,” a derivative of our friend “taxare.” This branch of the family tree eventually produced our modern English “task.”

Given this ancestry, it’s not surprising that “tax” has carried heavy overtones of compulsion and onerous duty ever since it appeared in English in the 13th century. Apart from the common meaning of “to assess, impose and collect” a levy, we use “tax” as a verb to mean “to burden or put a strain on” something or someone (as in “Working in customer service taxed Bob’s patience to the breaking point”). And since the 16th century, we have also used “tax” to mean “to accuse, charge or blame” a person (“I have been to blame; And you have justly taxed my long neglect,” Dryden, 1692).

None of your beeswax.

Dear Word Detective: Here in Western Pennsylvania, we use the word “nebby” to describe a person who pokes his nose into someone else’s business. An in-law from Central Pennsylvania uses the word “nibby,” and another from Eastern PA never heard either term. Can you tell us how those words came to be? Thank you, in advance, for the information. — Amy C. Chismar.

Ah, yes, Pennsylvania, lovely state. I’ve driven through there many times on my way to New York City. But I’m surprised to hear that you actually live there, because we were warned by people in Ohio to stick to the interstate and to drive as fast as possible. Something about zombies? In any case, I’ve always wondered, since Pennsylvania was named after William Penn and supposedly means “Penn’s Woods,” why there isn’t an apostrophe and another “s” in there (Penn’ssylvania). I think it’s worth considering. But I may be wrong. Never mind.

Onward. When I first read your question, I immediately wondered if “nebby” might be connected to “nebbish,” meaning “an ineffectual, awkward and insignificant person” (from the Yiddish exclamation “nebech” or “nebesh,” meaning “Poor thing!”). Think Woody Allen in his first few films (Take the Money and Run, Bananas, etc.). Since the hallmark of a true nebbish is social cluelessness, it seemed possible that one of the nebbish’s most annoying characteristics, butting into other people’s conversations, might have spawned “nebby.”

As it happens, however (that’s columnist-speak for “I was wrong”), “nebby” has no apparent connection with “nebbish.” The adjective “nebby” meaning “snoopy” is a classic Pittsburghism (like “jumbo” for bologna) common in Western Pennsylvania but almost unknown in the rest of the US. The form “nibby” and the related noun forms “neb-nose” and “nib-nose” (meaning an inquisitive person) are apparently a bit more widespread within Pennsylvania, but it’s not surprising that someone from Eastern PA wouldn’t have heard the term.

Anyplace that could come up with “jumbo” for bologna is clearly the birthplace of strange slang, so it’s tempting to chalk “nebby” up to the Pittsburgh water supply, but the story of “nebby” and its variants actually predates the European colonization of North America. It turns out that “neb” is a regional term in Northern England, Northern Ireland and Scotland for “beak” or “nose,” derived from an old Germanic root and dating back to Old English. A modified form of the same word is our modern “nib” for the beak-like point of a fountain pen. As a verb meaning “to pry into the affairs of others” (i.e., to be “nosy”), “neb” first appeared in the 19th century. As of now, oddly enough, the only two places on earth where you’re likely to hear “neb,” “nebby” and the like are Pittsburgh and Northern England. I figure it’s a zombie thing.